Reqiuem to the Moon
by metal-mako-dragon
Summary: Sometimes hiding solves the problem, but when it becomes the problem will Sanzo be able to pull his head out of the sand and face up? This is a fic for Cruiseberry for being my 100th reviewer for RD! It's a Saiyuki fic, my 1st, and it's a SanzoGoku AU
1. Rain and sun

**Disclaimer**: Saiyuki is not mine, although the thought of owning Sanzo has crossed my mind more than once...

**Summary**: When you lose someone close how do you cope when they are all you know? Friends offer haven but it can only last so long, and repentance always seems so far out of reach. But what happens when the unconventional cure that turns up at the door isn't quite what you were expecting?

**NB**: This is a fic for Cruiseberry, my lovely 100th reviewer of "The Rough Divide"! I really hope you like it, and even though it may seem a little dark and angsty at the beginning, honestly, where would a S/G story be without fluff? Of course I couldn't resist a smidgen of Hakkai/Gojo either though, as they are my darlings too after all. This is my first Saiyuki fic and so I hope it all goes as planned! It's also AU just to let you know before you get confused!

**Requiem for the Moon**

It was raining, again. I hate the rain, especially at this time of year. It pours from above as if never ending, as if the sky and the ocean have switched and now there is only the steady drip drip drip until the world rights itself. The moisture infects everything, makes it cool and damp, but I know that if I close the window the air will only turn stuffy, humid.

I hate this time of year.

I hate the rain.

Most people do, I suppose. For most people the rain is troublesome, a nuisance, something that makes you late for work because you forgot your umbrella, or catches you out on a walk far from shelter. It's something to complain about to friends over a drink, something to make adults whine and children shout with joy as they dance in the puddles littering the gutter.

For me it's different. For me the rain is not simply water, it's...memories. Falling memories, or perhaps more memories of falling. The memory of the rain that wiped the slate of my life clean.

I simply continued to stare at the shapes in the water as it slid down the clear surface of the glass, reaching out to touch the smooth expanse of the window and listen hollowly to the thundering outside.

I didn't start when I heard the front door creak whisperingly open. The sound was dulled by the rumble of thunder that passed overhead, after no lightening flash that I had noticed, and I ignored the sound of discarded shoes and soft footfalls travelling the corridor behind me. The deep grey clouds inched across the sky, momentarily unveiling the sun to cast a soft glow on the water spitting against the windowsill.

Eventually the door to the room slid open and the soft tread entered and retrieved the plates that sat forgotten on the table, the empty beer cans, the overflowing ashtray, and then padded out again without a word. I brought my hand back from the window and watched with distant fascination as the outline of my fingertips misted and then cleared, leaving faint smudges.

I sighed, my head hanging heavily, forehead coming to rest against the glass.

How long was I going to let myself act like this?

* * *

"I made sukiyaki tonight, would you like some?" Hakkai's voice floated to my ears as I entered the dining room, two hours later. 

The soft glow of the lamp in the corner cast the room in an almost sombre mood. I scratched around the bandage on my arm and sighed through my nose as I looked up at the table in the middle of the room where the voice had originated from. Hakkai's green eyes were watching me intently and, for some reason when he watched me with that slightly tense look of readiness it seemed that he was just expecting me to keel over in the doorway any minute. Of course I wouldn't do that, not just to uphold my image, but also because Hakkai had company. It was bad enough feeling like the fragile patient without having to play host to an audience, especially when the audience consisted of the world's biggest asshole. Hakkai was, in all truth, my only real friend and I sometimes found it hard to fault him but...his taste in company was appalling. I should know, he was friends with me, wasn't he? However, no matter how much I hated myself, I still found it grating to put myself in the same category as Gojyo the inherent gambling playboy.

"...I'm not hungry," was all I could think to say.  
"Yeah right, cause you could stand to lose some weight off that skinny ass of yours. Eat any less and someone might mistake you for a Gashadokuro."

I ground my teeth and tried my best to ignore him. What Hakkai saw in the gangly limbed smartass sat at his dining table was beyond me, it must be something only he could pick up on. Surely he couldn't like him for any of the personality traits I could list, either that or Hakkai was simpler than he looked, something I wasn't willing to believe so easily.

"Now Gojyo, I don't think he would fit in the house if that were the case..." came Hakkai's even, reasonable tone, although I could hear the smile in it.  
"Don't humour him Hakkai," I ground out.  
"Hey blondie, don't avoid the situation here, you're gonna eat some of this sukiyaki and you're gonna like it wise ass," his red hair was tied back loosely at the base of his neck and a few locks fell loose as he looked up at me with a smirk, "don't you appreciate home cooking?"  
"Sure I do, as long as you weren't involved in its creation," I shot back, staring him out, "I may not look it but I'm not quite ready to die yet."

He shrugged in response, turning back to his food instead of flipping out another of his usual wisecracks. Perhaps he'd promised Hakkai he'd behave tonight, well as much as could be expected. I walked across to the sink and grabbed a glass, turning the tap and letting it run before filling it. I waited for his reply, feeling like was I taking part in some perverse play where the lead character was subjected to the same monotony every day.

"So you gonna fill your quota of daily socialising Sanzo-sama?" Gojyo's good behaviour never usually lasted very long; I tried not to rise to the bait and failed.  
"Not with a crude, degenerate waste of time like you," I said back evenly.  
"Why Sanzo, straight through the heart," Gojyo said, taking my insults in his stride, "I know that's not true. You just can't admit that you love spending quality time with me."  
"I'd rather cut my own nuts off."  
"Oh, kinky eh?" one ridiculous brow raised, he stared at me, "never knew you had it in you. That quality time is starting to sound more appealing, how about we take this somewhere more private?"  
"I'd like to see you try and make me," I said back after another moment filled only with the sound of pattering rain and Hakkai's delicate sipping.  
"Oh yeah? That a challenge?" he was all out smirking now, enjoying himself far too much.  
"Guys, please, don't start," Hakkai finally admonished, "the food is getting cold."

Gojyo relented with a snort, shaking his head and once again turning back to his food. Hakkai turned to me with a soft, caring gaze, his smile inviting and impossible to resist, even to a hardened cynical bastard like myself. I leant against the countertop and sipped my water, feeling my stomach complaining as all it had received was the liquid diet I had been on since the day before yesterday. Of course as soon as I _thought_ about food suddenly I couldn't seem to escape the rich smell of the sukiyaki drifting from the pot. I stared at the table, then back up at Hakkai who was now wearing his I-know-you-can't-resist-my-cooking face, hand reaching over to pull out the chair next to him.

"Please Sanzo, have a seat."

* * *

"How much longer ya gonna let him mope around here like that?" 

I never have been one for eavesdropping, but it's hard not to listen when you know someone's talking about you. I had been feeling ill since dinner, not because the food was bad, just because I hadn't eaten anything substantial in a couple of days. So I had thought I would go outside and have a smoke, since Hakkai didn't like it when I smoked indoors. I had just reached the end of the hallway and was trying to search for my shoes in the dark when I heard his voice from the living room.

"It's not that easy Gojyo," Hakkai replied, his voice slightly muffled by the door I was now hiding behind, "things like this take time. You can't rush it."  
"It isn't healthy," I heard the redhead retort, my eyes narrowing instinctively at his criticism, "not eating, not sleeping, constantly grouchy...oh wait, that's just the normal Sanzo, guess I can't complain about that."  
"Gojyo," Hakkai sighed out, I could picture him shaking his head in admonishment but still having that small affectionate smile grace his lips, "please try and be more constructive."  
"Hey, I am being constructive," Gojyo said back, his voice laced with his ever present sarcasm, "I mean hey, who wouldn't want a lousy, bad tempered freeloader to invade their house for two months, force you to wait on him hand and foot and then give you zippo gratitude for ant of it."  
"I don't blame him for the way he's acting," Hakkai mumbled back after a pause, "it isn't...it is not easy trying to get your life back in order...after you lose someone close to you."

Then there was silence, one where I felt distinctly out of place, the reality of what I was doing suddenly becoming unavoidable. I frowned, ignoring the stab of guilt that tried to work its way into my thoughts as I turned away from the door. I heard the rustle of fabric as I left, like someone rubbing their hand along soft material.

"Hey man, I'm sorry," the rare sound of sincerity in Gojyo's fading voice almost made me pause, "c'mere."

When I awoke the next morning the silence seemed to loom over me. I blinked at the sunlight trying its best to wake me through the slats in the blinds, turning over onto my side and sighing. No more rain, the sound was gone. Somewhere in my chest, despite my constant complaining and annoyance at the seasonal weather, I almost missed its familiar thudding against my morning window. At least it let me think of...no.

No I won't think about it. I felt an all too familiar stab of pain lance through my chest and screwed up my face, pushing it into my pillow. God I was pathetic, wallowing in my own self pity, not even able to summon the energy to get out of bed just because the rain had stopped. Perhaps Gojyo was right, I was acting like a spoilt brat, but then...what else was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?

You never told me that, did you? With all your wisdom and your anecdotes and your kindness? What was I supposed to do when you left me? Huh, not that I ever needed anyone, not to survive. That's what I'm good at ne? Surviving? Yeah, like a damned cockroach, as Gojyo would so nicely put it.

It was only when the familiar thumping of Gojyo's heavy gait pulled me from my thoughts that I realised I was scowling. Scowling at nothing but the ghosts in my head. I slowly pushed myself up and let the covers fall down my chest. It wasn't cold now that the weather had brightened and I stepped out from under the covers without even shiver.

I opened the cupboard door as quietly as I could, Hakkai's room being next to my own, and tried not to look at the full length mirror lurking in the corner. Of course as soon as I tried to avoid it, just like the smell of Hakkai's cooking the night before, I inevitably caught a glimpse and then couldn't look away. I looked up and down the body reflected in the polished surface and grimaced, touching my hand to my skin and trying not to notice the fact that you could almost see my ribs. I've always been skinny but never like this. I looked emaciated, my cheeks seeming slightly hollow, my skin paler than usual, my hip bones jutting out sharply. As I pulled out a faded yukata and slipped it around my bony form a familiar question took form in my thoughts, one that I hadn't been able to answer since I showed up at Hakkai's door two months ago.

How long was I going to let myself act like this?

* * *

"Honestly Hakkai, is there someone else coming to breakfast that I don't know about?" 

I was staring out of the window again, looking away from the breakfast table and watching the fresh, white clouds passing languorously across the blue sky. I only half listened to the conversation taking place, mainly because it had been filled mostly with Gojyo's inane banter and, if I had paid any attention, I probably wouldn't have been able to refrain from stuffing his grilled fish down his throat, whole. Hakkai simply smiled softly in response to his friend, his usual mask of a smile, as he placed his chopsticks down and picked up his bowl of miso soup, inhaling gratefully before sipping it.

"I thought you might be hungry," he said, his eyes on the redhead who simply smirked in response, as if sharing some in joke that I wasn't meant to know about.  
"Well who's fault would that be?" he said with a shrug, eyes drifting back to his breakfast, "but really, there's enough here to feed an army."  
"Ha, you really have forgotten haven't you?" Hakkai said with a shake of his head as he placed his bowl down and took up his rice, chopsticks pulling the slightly sticky pieces into his mouth.

That caught my attention. I hadn't really cared until he said that, but now I was suddenly suspicious. Why _had_ Hakkai cooked so much? What had we forgotten? Was...someone else going to be here?

"What?" I asked bluntly, trying not to let the slight anger I knew I shouldn't be feeling seep into my voice.  
"You too Sanzo?" Hakkai chuckled to himself, "you disappoint me. I mean Gojyo forgetting was a given, the man can't remember what day to take out the garbage..."  
"Hey," Gojyo complained gracefully through a mouthful of rice, to which Hakkai just shrugged.  
"I have a student coming today," He said, letting a feeling of dread mix with the anger pooling in my stomach.  
"But it's the school break," I said back through clenched teeth, my hand gripping my empty rice bowl.  
"That's right, but this student is a little behind on his studies, although he tries very hard. I told him that I would tutor him over the break, it isn't as if I have anything else that pressing to do," the brunette seemed oblivious to the two disbelieving stares he was receiving from either side, picking up a piece of rolled omelette and popping it into his mouth.  
"Well, it was nice of you to remind me," Gojyo huffed, pushing away his empty plates and picking up his green tea, fixing green eyes with a hard stare, "considering you knew I would forget."  
"I didn't think it would bother anyone," Hakkai said, not looking at either of us, "and anyway, who am I to deny a student in need of help? You don't want him to fail the upcoming final exams now do you?"

I ground my teeth, a gesture becoming all too familiar to me, and tried not to think about having some little brat running around this place I had declared my sanctuary, my hideaway. It was as I thought about this that another reality struck me, just like when I had looked at myself in the mirror that morning as I had dressed.

I hadn't come into contact with another person other than Hakkai and Gojyo in two months.

Since I had holed myself up here, I hadn't even spoken to another person, used the phone, answered the door, taken a walk into the village...the furthest I had been was the stream that ran through the garden at the back of the house. I had cut myself off so effectively that now, embarrassingly enough, the thought of a mere school kid coming to visit for the day was setting my nerves on edge.

Dammit...I...really am losing it.

I guess I didn't realise how thankful I was that Hakkai's house was rather remote. It was about a twenty minute walk from the village, where Hakkai taught in the small school, out near the forest with no other house in sight. It was perfect for what I needed, perfect for the solidarity I craved, coupled with the care I required. I sighed gruffly at the thought of that peace being broken, at having to avoid this child.

"So who is it," Gojyo was saying as I zoned back in to the conversation that had gone on without me, "this kid?"  
"Oh, his name is..." Hakkai started, but was interrupted by a knock at the door, "ah, that must be him now, I can introduce him properly. Excuse me."

I waited until Hakkai had left the room, the door sliding gracefully shut, before grabbing up my remaining portion of the feast Hakkai had prepared and stood to leave by the dining rooms other door and hopefully slip into my room unnoticed. Gojyo was shaking his head as he watched me, noisily sipping his hot tea.

"Don't waste your time, do you?" he said with a grin, the murmur of Hakkai's voice in the background mixed with a higher, more exited one making me want to simply drop the plates and run, "What's the matter? It's just a kid, afraid they might try and talk to you and you'll have to burst that bubble you're living in? In my opinion that's what I call cowardly."

I paused, trying not to raise my voice and give away the fact that I was here at all, and glared back at him. The voices grew louder and I felt my nerves straining, feeling trapped but still indignant enough to grace him with a reply.

"For future reference, if I want your opinion," I hissed, eyes narrowed, "I'll beat it out of you."

I slid open the other door, peeking out into the corridor and checking for Hakkai and his guest. Luckily for me Hakkai was obviously giving him a little tour, I could hear him pointing out the bathroom and study where Hakkai would hopefully incarcerate his guest until his stay was over. I slipped out into the hall and closed the door behind me, making as little noise as possible. I reached my bedroom door in another couple of covert steps, just as I heard Hakkai mention breakfast, and the rather overly enthusiastic reply.

"Are you sure Hakkai-san?" the voice was light, melodious, and yet entirely alien to my ears.  
"Please Goku, just call me Hakkai, there's no need to be so formal out of school," Hakkai corrected, his voice calm and kind as ever, yet holding an authoritative edge he had never used with me, "and of course you can join us, I cooked extra for you. Out of everyone I know you appreciate my cooking the most."

I opened the door to my room, slipped inside and closed the door just in time for the two of them to round the corner of the corridor. I listened to their footsteps, heard the door to the dining room slide open and then shut, the now muffled voices raised in greeting, and one raised in obvious gratitude for the feast I had only so recently partaken of.

"Wow, this really all for me?! Thanks Hakkai-sa...I mean Hakkai!"

Hakkai's melodious laugh drifted through the house, and Gojyo's mumbling voice, mixed with that alien noise, that strange, appealing and yet...terrifying voice.

God, I really am pathetic. Completely, utterly, spinelessly, pathetic.

I set out the remnants of my meal on the small table in the middle of the room and tried my best to ignore the sounds of normalcy mocking me as I ate alone and in silence.

* * *

I didn't remember falling asleep but, when I woke up it was to the deep crimson of the setting sun ripping through the fading orange of the sky. I was slumped against the wall, covers half pulled over my legs from the nearby bed, facing the window. I blinked over at my half finished breakfast, wondering absently where the day had gone. Had I slept here all day? I...I didn't really remember. Hell, was this what it was going to become? Life, an endless monotony into which all time and space falls and becomes one. 

Huh, as if I would be so lucky.

I stretched out my legs, savouring the cracking joints as I let the blood flow back to my feet. The house was still, quiet, peaceful...and yet that voice...that voice from this morning still echoed gently in my head. I tried not to focus on it, banish it from my thoughts but, well, I suppose I didn't really have anything else to think about. Cause and effect, boredom and the need for stimulation, the contact starved idiot and the disembodied voice of someone he wasn't sure if he could handle yet. Story of my fucking life.

As I stared out the window and watched the garden through sleep tinted eyes, a large white bird drifted into view, landing gracefully on the bank of the river. It folded its wings, its elegant beak and grey and white plumage identifying it as a crane. As I stared out, in the paling dusk, a second crane swooped into view, landing practically on top of the other. The new arrival tossed back its head and let out a shrill cry. The other answered, a long, slow howl which sent shivers up my arms. I had seen them here before, fishing in the small river in Hakkai's garden, a breeding pair, and had watched them then with the same dead eyes. Just like the rain, now the wildlife is getting to me. Shit, is everything going to make me think about..?

"_I wonder, who do you think it is it that decided that the birds are free?"_

No, dammit, I don't want to hear it. Don't make me remember...

"_They can fly wherever they choose, but perhaps they will regret that freedom when their weary wings seek rest."_

God dammit, please, I don't want to...

"_Perhaps true freedom...perhaps true freedom is having a home to return to."_

That does it! I stood up forcefully, throwing the blanket from my legs and grabbing one of the nearby empty plates piled haphazardly on the table. The window banged as it opened but I didn't care if anyone was asleep, I didn't care if I was acting like a maniac, all I wanted was to throw this plate out of the window. I really did believe, as I watched it sail into the garden and scatter the congregated cranes, that it would make me feel better. It hit the grass with a dull thud and a crack. I was breathing hard, heavy, the cool night air filling my lungs as I tried my best to reign myself under control. As I slowly came back to myself, realising what a lunatic I was being, I let my head drop to my chest, all the latent energy draining from my limbs.

I needed a cigarette.

The window was the easiest way to the outside world. I grabbed my lighter and the last lonely cigarette from the crumpled Marlboro packet on the dresser and clambered over the low step of the full length window, relishing the feeling of the dew on the grass slipping in between my toes. The night air was cool against my heated skin, the thick smoke heavy in my lungs as I lit up, making my head feel light. The stars twinkled silently as I stood out in the darkness, sucking in the nicotine and letting my eyes drift closed.

"Bastard," I tried to ignore the fact that my voice was cracking as I opened my eyes to stare up at the moon, its light filling the sky.

* * *

"Ohayo Sanzo," Hakkai set out a bowl of rice to my left and flashing me a closed eye smile, "soup will be ready in a moment."  
"Morning sourpuss," the red head at the other end of the table glowered up at me from between droopy bangs, "thanks a bunch for giving me a god damn heart attack last night, I thought someone was shooting at us."  
"Oh, what," I said back coolly, pulling in my chair and surveying the table, noticing it was just as heavily laden as the previous morning, "did I interrupt your beauty sleep? It would explain a lot."  
"Shut it you grumpy old git."  
"Player."  
"Droopy eyes."  
"Please guys," Hakkai sighed out, placing the soup out on the table. 

The same every morning, for the last two months. The same antagonising, the same jibes, the same appeasement. The rice was tasteless in my mouth as I shovelled it in, trying not to listen to Hakkai and Gojyo's polite innuendos.

I didn't even pay any attention when Hakkai left the table, Gojyo smirking like an idiot. I chewed harder than it's really necessary to when eating rice and closed my eyes. I swallowed mechanically, reaching out for my soup, thinking about what I was going to do today. Oh, wait, that's right I'll be in my room feeling sorry for myself and trying to drown my sorrows in some premature alcoholism...

"I'm going to take a shower," I said shortly, just as Hakkai set out the soup, ignoring his slightly startled face.  
"Of course," he smiled, "I'll save your share for later."  
"Hn," I grunted back, pushing the empty rice bowl out into the fray of fish and omelette and umeboshi.

I hadn't really wanted to think about it, but not only had I not eaten properly in the past two days, but I hadn't bathed either. Now I know Hakkai can be polite but, really, there is only so much a guy can take. I was just surprised that Gojyo's keen sense for an insult hadn't picked up on my state earlier and monopolised his advantage. Of course Hakkai could have taken care of that, probably last night. It still cracked me up that they thought I didn't know, even if I didn't show it.

The water was hot, that was what I had been banking on. I had studiously avoided the mirror as I undressed, instead watching the water as the shower ran, waiting for it to heat to the right temperature. Strangely enough it was not the same as the rain, it was odd how my feelings could differentiate between water falling from a shower head and water falling from the sky. It just didn't affect me in the same way, something I was very glad about because I really did enjoy my shower, when I could work up the energy to take one. Thankfully for my housemates I had finally gotten round to it...of course the imminent arrival of Hakkai's student was a slight incentive to hide myself away in the bathroom.

Gee, don't I just sound like the teenage girl.

An hour later, when the bathroom's atmosphere reached a higher moisture than oxygen level, I decided that it might be a good idea to go back to my room and dry off. According to the condensation covered clock the time was ten fifty five. Good, just enough time to fit in some wallowing self pity in the garden before lunch. Huh, sometimes I just crack myself up.

I wound the now slightly damp towel around my hips and pulled at the slippy door handle, edging the door open as I made sure to keep my footing on the tiled floor. I instinctively cringed back as the door opened, letting the cool air invade my sauna, but grit my teeth and pushed out into the hallway as fast as I could before my ever so wonderful instincts could persuade me to stay in the bathroom for the rest of the day. No, really, it wouldn't be the first time it had happened. Of course, as most things, there is a reason they call them 'instincts'. If I had listened to them this time around, perhaps I could have saved myself a lot less embarrassment than being towed out of the bathroom at twelve o'clock at night by Hakkai and put to bed.

I couldn't really see as I exited the bathroom, the plume of steam flowing out around me, and so therefore didn't see that there was someone else there, running down the hallway with youthful abandon.

"Whoa..!" was all I heard before the wind was knocked out of me, my feet slipping on the wet wooden floor, and I went down with the full weight of my assailant on top of me.

I heaved in air, my vision blurring for a moment before I realised exactly where I was. Everything went deathly quiet for a second that seemed to stretch out into an eternity; I was on my back, on the floor in a pool of water, staring up into a pair of startled and yet entirely wondrous golden eyes.

And my towel wasn't round my waist anymore.

"What the hell you doing out there Goku?" Gojyo's voice slid into my ears, very quickly ripping me back to reality, "Wrecking the joint?"

The golden eyes blinked, then suddenly the heat was lost as he scrambled desperately to his feet, hands slipping against the water covered floor as he struggled to right himself.

"I-I'm so sorry!" he stuttered out, eyes stalling once more as he seemed to suddenly realise the fact that I was naked, "Uh, sorry, I...here..."

He stretched out his hand, his gaze sincere and yet unwavering as he focused on my face. I blinked up at him for a moment. What a strange and eventful morning this was turning out to be. I kept my face entirely passive as I sat up, picked up my towel which had fallen by my feet, stood up without assistance and wrapped it back around my waist.

"Uh, look I really am sorry, I didn't see you there, you just sorta came out of nowhere y'know," the boy was rambling, "and I guess I shouldn't have been running it's just that..."  
"Whatever," I ground out, pushing past him, ignoring the slightly hurt look in those golden eyes, ignoring the slight ache along my spine now that the shock of the fall had worn off.

As I walked surprisingly calmly back to my room I heard the living room door open behind me and the sound of the radio drift out into the air.

"Shit you really are wrecking the place you little ape!" Gojyo's voice was only half angry, half amused, "what you do? Crack your head open and all the water spilled out?"  
"I did not! It wasn't me, some mean guy with blonde hair was comin' outta the bathroom and I..."  
"Wait...you knocked into Sanzo and...you didn't, oh, you did!" his laughter was all that followed until I slammed the door to my room closed and knocked my head against it repeatedly, "oh, can't breathe..."

What a way to make a first impression. But then, hell...that boy, speaking of first impressions...

He was maybe only five foot six, skinny as any late teenager would be out here in the countryside. He looked innocent, naive, almost dumb (although the situation itself could account for the yokel like gaping). I snorted, letting my towel drop to the floor as the air began to dry my heated skin.

At any other time, any normal time, I would have never stalled the way that I did back there in the hallway. I mean, shit, when I should have been getting my ass up off the floor and divesting myself of frightened teenager I had simply stared at him like a deer in the proverbial headlights. Those proverbial headlights in this case took the form of a pair of golden eyes, vivid with life, staring out from under a mop of unruly brown hair. I shivered again and this time it had nothing to do with the change in room temperature. The feeling in my gut was one of, dare I actually say it even to myself in my own head, acute butterfly's, and I was both attracted to that feeling and repulsed by it simultaneously.

I was jarred from my thoughts suddenly by the sound of Hakkai's rare and yet uncontrollable laughter from somewhere in the direction of the study. It was another of those alien sounds that was becoming all too regular an event recently, breaking down my well rehearsed and practised routine of the day. I sighed and pushed myself back from the wall towards the cupboard, trying not to think about how much shit I was going to get at dinner tonight about this.

Author note:

Okay, I know it might seem weird, but this is only going to be a short story, about three or four chapters long (yes I really do find it impossible to write one-shots). I'm setting it in modern day, somewhere in rural Japan simply because I don't know enough about China (yes it is that shallow a reason). I apologise if it seems like an odd AU that doesn't contain much explanation yet, but that will follow, honest, this won't turn out like the other rubbishy unfinished stories that I generally write!

Okay! Cruiseberry, I hope that you enjoyed it so far (if you didn't you can tell me you know, I can change anything if you want!) and I'll finish it soon. I had a look in your favourite stories and saw that the Sanzo/Goku that you have stashed there are AU's so I thought I would give it a go, hope it doesn't disappoint as I have never tried it before! Oh and the next chapter of RD is on its way!

Thanks for reading!

Maiko x


	2. Taciturn Seasons

Disclaimer: I don't own Saiyuki at all, stop rubbing it in already...

**Chapter 2**

**Taciturn seasons**

The sun shone brazenly through the open windows, highlighting the dust ebbing and flowing around the room. As I sighed a jet stream of particles danced and sparkled towards the living room to join the soft voices drifting from the doorway. I pushed sweaty hair out of my eyes and let my body slump, leaning on the broom I held in my right hand and grimacing. I felt like shit.

Housework really doesn't suit me. I don't clean, I don't cook and I don't look good in a little apron with a feather duster. Yet Hakkai still seemed to like torturing me with it as long as I stayed over on weekends. Goku's voice caught my attention as I paused in my duties, his tone indignant.

"But you just said..! Wait, let me get this straight."

The little brat Hakkai was teaching sounded just as confused as he always did during grammar lessons...or maths lessons, or, well, any lessons. Hakkai's good natured chuckle was the only break between Goku's outrage and his subsequently painful deduction.

"So it's swim and swam, right? Run and ran, right? But not jump and jamp? It's jumped? Right?"  
"That's right," Hakkai's voice was indefinably patient, "it's a 'regular' participle, but it has a slightly different ending than the others."  
"But..." he sounded like his head was about to explode, "why?"  
"Well, it just does," Hakkai's voice sounded light and I could tell he was smiling that closed eye smile of his as Goku no doubt frowned.  
"English doesn't make any sense," was all Goku could say to that.

I let my hand fall from my forehead and pushed myself up from my slouch, using the broom for support, smiling a little as Goku finally acquiesced to Hakkai's reasoning and they carried on reading through the text book. I reluctantly began sweeping again, trying to ignore the way my t-shirt stuck to my sweaty back and my hair ineluctably feel back into my eyes, making them itch.

The afternoon had just begun, bringing with it strong sunshine to banish the morning clouds. It had rained on and off since Hakkai had rudely awoken me at nine o'clock, but now the spring rain storms that seemed to have been plaguing us were subsiding, giving way to the crisp heat of summer sun; and once I finished my chores, I could go out and damn well enjoy it.

Shit, I sounded like a little kid who'd been told to clean his room by his mum, not told to have the house spotless in the next few hours by his boyfriend. Of course, the wrath of Hakkai (however subdued it may seem to outsiders) is much scarier than anything a mother could throw at you.

Unless, of course, she was my mother. But hey, let's not put a dampener on the mood there.

"Do you mind?" said a sudden, icy voice from behind me, startling me out of my thoughts.

I swung round in a panic, almost decapitating Sanzo with my broom. The blond staggered back, glaring at me as I tried to bring my heart rate under control, taking hold of a chair back to steady himself. I rolled my eyes at him, bringing the broom down and placing it back onto the ground with a soft thump, noticing the way he struggled slightly to right himself.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," I said brusquely, "damn you're quieter than a cat!"

"Well you watch what you're doing baka!" he growled out, stalking past me now that I was out of his way and making for the kitchen sink, "This isn't a dojo and I'm not a test dummy."  
"Well shit," I drawled, "and here I thought there was something funny about all the furniture and walls and carpets in this place. You scared the crap outta me, what did you expect me to do, it's a reflex."  
"Well keep your reflexes to yourself in future," he spat back, spinning the tap on violently and jamming a glass under the flow.

As he stood at the sink, the sun caught him and threw into relief his slim figure. I couldn't help but watch him intently, tracing the bones in his arms and neck, the sharply protruding hip bones which revealed themselves from under his back vest top as he tipped his head back to finish the water in a couple of large gulps. I shook my head imperceptibly, looking towards the living room to make sure Hakkai was still preoccupied before I set my broom down against the kitchen table and approached him. He saw me coming and glared at me from the corner of one violet eye.

"What do you want now? I'm not really in the mood for any more sparing, not with the likes of you," he snorted, "I like my head attached to my body."  
"Not that you're in any state," I said very matter-of-factly, adopting a serious tone "is what you mean. What have you eaten today?"  
"What?" he said in an outraged hiss, rounding both sharp eyes on me, "What are you, my mother? Asking me if I'm eating properly? It's none of your goddamn business!"  
"Whoa there," I said, not backing away but raising an eyebrow none the less at his over reaction, "me thinks the lady doth protest too much."  
"Eat shit and die Sha Gojyo, talk to me again today and you'll be the one without a head," he said in a dangerous tone, slamming his empty glass down before pushing past me and stalking back out of the kitchen into the hallway.

I knew exactly where he was going, out into the garden...again. Every day he seemed to eat less and less food, and every day he came out of that room more and more infrequently. The only other place he visited with any regularity was the garden, sitting under one of Hakkai's ornamental trees or lying down by the river. Hakkai was worried and tried not to mention it, I wasn't as worried as Hakkai but couldn't help but mention it and...well Goku just had too many damn questions about Sanzo, most of which I wasn't at liberty to answer. The brat hadn't stopped pestering me all day, any spare moment he had found him standing behind me with his endless bouts of questioning.

"_But Gojyo, why won't you just tell me? Is it such a big secret?"  
"Leave me alone Goku will ya? I'm trying to concentrate here."  
"Well you would have to wouldn't you, considering your brain is so small heh heh..."  
"Will you be quiet?"  
"Nuh uh, not until you tell me. Come on Gojyo please? I won't tell anyone I swear it!"  
"Look Goku, this really isn't the time..."  
"But it's such an unusual name. I just wanna know. Why is Sanzo called Sanzo?"_

It's really not a big question. It really isn't, it's just...in the light of the current situation, that little question could have you peeing into a bag for the rest of your life if Sanzo heard you asking it.

"Gojyo? Are you hungry?"

Even though I was lost in my thoughts, the same as when Sanzo had surprised me earlier, I didn't flip out this time. Hakkai just never registers on my threat-o-meter. Instead I just looked over my shoulder into Hakkai's calm face and half smiled.

"Nah, I'm okay," I turned to face him and let my smile turn to a smirk as I watched him raking in the cupboards, "let me guess, you're feeding the monkey again?"  
"His name is Goku," Hakkai said with a little disapproval, "and yes, that's what you do with guests, you look after them."

Yeowch, couldn't have been subtler if you'd bent me over an tattooed it on my ass there buddy. Take it he overheard my little chat with Sanzo-sama. Sometimes, and definitely when it came to Sanzo, Hakkai could act like a panther with cubs you were definitely getting too close to.

"Look, I was only asking him if he'd eaten," I said with a little annoyance; in a way that _was_ looking after the arrogant git, "I wasn't interrogating him or anything."  
"You should go easier on him, he doesn't need antagonising," Hakkai said as he re-emerged from the cupboard with a plethora of snacks.  
"It's not antagonising when the man's bones are almost sticking out of his skin," I said back seriously, picking up the broom again and sweeping at the floor harshly, "the guys killing himself and we're all just sitting here and watching!"

Oh hell, maybe that was going a bit far. I didn't look up at Hakkai, instead I focused on my sweeping, forcing the dirt into a neat bundle in the corner and listening to Hakkai placing things all too precisely onto the countertop.

"Look, I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel about it," I said finally into the silence, finishing my sweeping and putting the broom against the wall.  
"Well, if that's how you feel," Hakkai's tone was too nonchalant, to the point of brushing me off.  
"Hakkai, don't be like this," I sighed out, looking over to him and watching his tense shoulders as he prepared something for the bottomless pit in the other room.  
"I'm not being anything Gojyo," Hakkai looked over his shoulder and smiled a non-smile at me that made me groan internally, "make sure you remember and clean out Sanzo's ash tray."  
"Ah crap Hakkai, the guy just threatened to decapitate me if I spoke to him a minute ago, now you want me going in his room?" I said incredulously.  
"You don't need to speak to him to empty his ashtray," Hakkai said pleasantly, picking up a tray and placing his prepared feast onto it.

He didn't say another word to me, instead simply picked up the tray and exited the room. I heard the tray clink onto the table and scrubbed my hand over my face, suddenly feeling very tired. I retrieved the small dustpan and brush from one of Hakkai's wondrously cavernous cupboards and cleaned up the last of the dirt and dust. Goku's voice drifted through into the room like the afternoon sun.

"Um...is everything alright Hakkai? Is Sanzo okay?"

"He's fine," Hakkai said in his best end-of-topic voice, "now Goku, why don't we try some arithmetic..."

* * *

I felt like I'd been studying forever. My head was fuzzy from concentrating for too long and I was hungry again, but I didn't want to ask for more food. Hakkai was nice to me and all but I felt guilty. If I kept eating all his food there wouldn't be anything left to eat for dinner.

We were taking a break now, Hakkai had told me he was going to the shops to pick up a few things and so now I was wondering around the house, bored. I wandered into the living room, looking around at Hakkai's minimal and yet stylish furniture, and tried not to think about going home tonight. Sometimes, I just felt like asking Hakkai to let me stay over, I knew he'd let me but...well, he was already looking after one guest already and I didn't want to be a burden. I turned down the hallway, looking down at the waning sunshine on the floorboards, when I heard a click from the kitchen. I looked up as I stopped at the door, spirits lifting slightly as I spied just the person I needed to see. There was surely only so long he could stand up to my questions, no one could withstand me for longer than a couple of days in general before they simply gave in! I liked to think of it as one of my few talents.

"So, umm, hey Gojyo..."

"What?" the redhead replied irritably, pushing another sock into the washing machine.

"That blond guy that stays here," I started with just a little too much nonchalance.

"You mean Sanzo," Gojyo corrected as he slammed the door to the washing machine shut and continued to try and not set it wrong so that Hakkai wouldn't have to disembowel him.

"Uh yeah, I know his name baka! Hey, uhh..."

"Gees will you just spit it out you ape?" Gojyo finally snapped, rounding on me as he poured the washing powder out into the small drawer, "Just ask and quit nagging me!"

"I'm not an ape!" I retorted hotly on instinct, eyes narrowing, "I'm Goku, so shut up already!"

"I'll shut up when you go away and leave me the hell alone," the older man grumbled out, turning the dial on the machine with a safe crackers delicacy, "you haven't left me alone all day, and in respect to my sanity I'd be happier of you could maybe just get lost."

"Fine I will then!"

"And the world did rejoice," Gojyo's words faded as I stomped from the room and down the hallway, "the monkey was..."

The slamming of the backdoor behind him cut off any further gibes from my ears. I stood for a moment, fuming on the doormat before I turned, put my hands on my hips and shouted...

"I'm not a monkey you pervert!"

There was a silence then, filled only with the rush of wind through the maple leaves and the soft hum of the washing machine as it started filling the drum with water.

"Well you certainly make enough noise to be one," came a startling voice from behind the boy, making me jump back around in surprise, "no wonder Gojyo keeps calling you that."

I swallowed. At the other end of the garden, underneath a drooping Japanese maple, Sanzo sat cross legged on the grass, his eyes closed. The sunshine danced on the leaves, making the water upon them sparkle, and showering red shadows down onto his golden hair. His position was that of meditation, even _I_ recognised it for its simplicity, yet his hands were flat on his knees and his brow was furrowed as if in concentration. The silence stretched out, but in reality I was glad; if he had said anything more to me, I wouldn't really know what to say.

Of course, if it had been Gojyo that had said that to me there would have been a full scale war by now but, when faced with such peaceful calm encasing something I could only describe as _power_ well...it was slightly more difficult.

"Are you going to stand there and stare at me with your mouth hanging open all day," I blinked and then slammed my mouth shut, wondering worriedly how Sanzo had known what I was doing when his eyes were shut, "or do I have to remove you from my presence physically?"

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck bristle and, despite my nervousness, I couldn't help but say something back to _that_. I was fed up of people treating however they felt like, using me, taking things out on me! Gojyo insults me and...and now THIS guy, well, insult didn't really do his words justice. Hakkai's the only one who treats me as if I'm a real person around here and, even though I didn't want to admit it most of the time it, I couldn't help but feel that Hakkai being my teacher had something to do with it. What did he know about me anyway! And I had thought he seemed kinda cool...

"Why, do I smell or something? Is that why you've been avoiding me all day?" I surprised myself with the anger in my voice.

The trees rustled again, the stained glass effect of the leaves on Sanzo's hair making the lump in my throat tighten as they danced and swirled. It was like some bloody halo, almost disconcerting despite its beauty. I couldn't help staring, even when I noticed one slim, violet eye slit open and stare back.

"Your hygiene, while questionable, has nothing to do with me," Sanzo's tone was hard and aggravated, "now scram."

* * *

It's been a week now. I wouldn't have thought that such a short time had passed if the calendar didn't mock me from the kitchen wall. A whole seven days of torment, waking up and wishing I hadn't because now all I do is...

"Oi space case, what's the big deal, you done with that or what?"

"Get bent, I'll do what I want."

"Now Sanzo, there's enough teppanyaki for everyone."

I felt my teeth gritting together, but managed to resist throwing the steaming plate of grilled meat over his stupid red head. He even had the grace to wince through his smirk as I glared at him; good, maybe if he realises that I really don't have any compunction about murdering him then he'll shut up and leave me alone.

"Here," I shoved it roughly across the polished wood.

The plate hit his steaming bowl of ramen, water splashed slightly onto his hand; hissing he stuck it into his mouth.

"Watch what you're doing!" he snapped back around the reddened flesh, but then his eyes lit up with humour "heh, but then I know just how much you love to splash water around Sanzo-chan so I won't complain too much."

"Gojyo..." Hakkai warned unsuccessfully.

"Honestly, I know you've never had your way with anyone," he was enjoying this too much, and I felt my eyes narrowing dangerously, "but throwing yourself at them wet and naked really isn't the way to do it."

"Just keep talking shit head," I snarked out around a mouthful of ramen, "I know where you sleep."

"Sorry Sanzo, but you're just not my type," he winked lasciviously, "although I might be willing to give lessons for a price..."  
"Okay, any more talking and you'll be eating in separate rooms," Hakkai's voice cut in with the subtlety of a knife in the ribs, dangerously edged behind his kind smile and closed eyes, "now why don't we continue dinner like civilised people?"

We ate in silence after that, the soft patter of the rain against the windows a disturbingly familiar background. Just when I thought the weather was picking up, here it is, back to mock me again. I didn't like it. The silence made me think and this definitely wasn't the time to let my mind wander. At least I'd managed to get some semblance of an appetite back. The food tasted hot and real in my mouth, unlike before when it merely seemed like an action, I was actually enjoying this. Well, as much as I could when seated at a table with an annoying moron and a suppressed psychopath.

"Well, since we're being so well behaved tonight," Hakkai said after he'd emptied the finished dinner dishes onto the counter for Gojyo to wash, seating himself down at the table once more, "I have a favour to ask."

"Another favour?" the redhead grumbled, arms up to his elbows in soapy water, "Cleaning not enough for you? I swear Hakkai you're tryin' to domesticate me or something."  
"That's what you do with animals," I said, the insult automatic yet still as satisfying as ever.

"Wha..!Talk about the pot calling the..." he started back angrily but was swiftly interrupted.

"As I was saying," Hakkai said loudly, pouring out a cup of tea from the pot he'd made, "as you know I'm going to a conference tomorrow as a representative of the school. Unfortunately I can't get out of it, the headmaster is ill and he specifically asked me to replace him."

"Hn," I grunted out in acknowledgement, "and this affects us why? We'll be fine for a day, as long as Gojyo doesn't cook."

"Hey!" instant witty retort, "who said I'd be coming around here anyway if all I'd see is your sorry ass..."

"Well!" Hakkai was definitely getting mad, but I wasn't worried; he would take it out on Gojyo before he'd take it out on me, "As you know I'm tutoring a pupil of mine, Goku, over the break and I told him it would be alright to come around while I was gone to revise his work. It's a little hard for him at home so I think it would be best if he stayed here tomorrow and used the study."

I felt the goose bumps rising on my exposed arms, wishing that it wasn't so draughty in Hakkai's house when it rained. The clinking of crockery from sink had stopped but I didn't want to look up just to see Gojyo's moronic blinking face. I could easily guess what was coming next and I had to resist the urge to scream. I really needed a cigarette.

"Well, to put a long story short, the favour I want to ask is if one of you would keep an eye on him while I'm gone," Hakkai sipped his tea smoothly, eyes staying noticeably blank as he looked at the wall opposite him, "Gojyo, you know how clumsy he is and I'd rather not come back to find the house burned to the ground because he attempted to make toast."

"...Huh," I finally looked up to watch Gojyo drying the soap bubbles from his arms with a dishtowel, "and I suppose you'd already decided that this someone was me right?"

"Well..." Hakkai laughed softly, scratching the back of his head.

"Seriously Hakkai say 'well' one more time and I'm going to..." I stopped myself through sheer force of will, not wanting to put myself into Hakkai's bad books, "never mind. And what exactly is 'well' supposed to mean anyway? You trying to say that it's not worth asking me?"

"Well," Hakkai said slowly and deliberately, ignoring my growl, "yes, that's about right."

I opened my mouth to say something I would probably have regretted and was saved by the unlikely sound of a knock at the front door. Hakkai blinked, looking up from his tea at Gojyo who shrugged back.

"Don't look at me," he said, leaning back against the counter, "not expecting anyone."

"It's a bit late for anyone to be out this far," Hakkai mumbled, but standing up regardless, "I guess I'd better see who it is."

His slippers scuffed the floor softly as he made his way to the entrance hall, closing the door behind him. A burst of wind rattled the window and lashed the rain noisily against the glass. I wondered absently who would be out in the middle of nowhere in this weather. I heard the front door open and then close again a moment later, obviously Hakkai had let whoever it was out of the rain and into the shelter of the house. The sound of sucking water as the sink drained caught my attention but I didn't look up, instead pouring myself out a cup of tea from Hakkai's pot.

"Sheesh," Gojyo pushed away from the counter and stalked over to the small adjoining living room, throwing himself down onto the couch and sighing, "well isn't that just freaking wonderful. Looking after that little punk all day? What does Hakkai think I am?"

"Wrapped around his little finger?" I bit out, scratching my nail against the table, wishing it wasn't raining so I could go out for a cigarette.

"Screw you," Gojyo snorted back with no hint of malice, looking to the door as the sound of voices became more pronounced, "if you're gonna live in his house the least you could do is lend a hand jackass."

"Hn," I said, trying to ignore the sound of voices moving down the hallway past the kitchen, but suddenly it became very difficult, then suddenly...impossible...

I felt my eyes widen and my hands clench into fists and barely heard the chair as I jumped up and it slammed back into the wall and fell before the door to the kitchen slid open again and it was too late now to escape...

"Sanzo, you have a visitor," Hakkai didn't look in any way apologetic as he stepped into the kitchen and let the guest in behind him.

She looked up to me uncertainly, obviously trying to mask the slight horror in her face as she took in my ruined form, but failed miserably. I knew what she was seeing, I knew because I was the one who hadn't been eating properly for weeks and I was the one who had to take the consequences and dammit what did this have to do with her, with any of them! Why couldn't they just leave me be...

"Sanzo you..." she finally forced a smile to her lips and continued, "...it's good to see you."

"I can't say the same," I felt my eyes narrow and saw her flinch as if I'd struck her, "why are you here Yaone?"

She hadn't removed her coat and it dripped slowly onto the floor. Her face was slightly drawn but she was trying. It took her a moment to compose herself, during which I noted Hakkai had bundled Gojyo from the room and closed the door behind him, leaving us alone. Shit.

"Listen Yaone..." I started but was surprised when she cut me off sharply, the eyes focused on me now filled with tears.

"No, you listen to me," she said, "you think you're the only one this is affecting? You think this doesn't hurt us all? One minute you're there and the next you've disappeared, I was so scared, I thought you were dead! How can you do this, it's cruel, you know? Why can't you see that this is for the best, why can't you see that..."

"For the best?" I could feel the room dimming, my vision blackening everything I saw, "Oh of course, best for that sick husband of yours and his fucking bank balance, isn't that right?"

"No," she choked out, hands held out almost pleadingly as any defiance she had mustered crumbled away and the tears poured down her face, "that's not how it is..!"

"I know exactly how it is," I spat out, seething, furious, "you couldn't give a shit about the temple, you wouldn't shed a single of these fake tears when they tear down the place he died to protect, would you? Would you, you stupid bitch! How slow do you think I am!?"

She was shaking now, her long dark hair falling gracefully around her sobbing form as she clutched her hands back to her face. She was shaking her head and trying to pull herself under control, I could see that, but I couldn't care less that she was upset, that I was making a woman cry, any of that crap. I knew what they all thought, all of those spineless bastards. What did they think I would roll over like some weak cub and give into their demands, their threats, their weeping and their pleading?

"You need to understand," Yaone was wiping her face on her already wet sleeve now, hiccoughing softly, "we haven't been given a choice Sanzo, they're threatening the family now, they want that land and they'll do anything to get it."

"Oh, so I'm not one of the family anymore?" I said with a sharp glare as I wondered over to the small living room and sat down rigidly where Gojyo had been moments before, "That didn't take long."

"I didn't say that!" she said back, distressed, but still didn't move from her position by the doorway; I think she was afraid of me, and in a way, deep down, it made my chest ache to think it, "Stop twisting my words. God Sanzo...look at you, you're so thin, have you been eating at all? I've been so worried about you, since you left, and you've refused to see anyone, I practically had to sneak out here to see you, and this is how you treat me?"

The pattering of the rain was louder at this end of the room and I tried not to focus on it. Finally she stepped a little further into the room, even if it was only to sit on one of the wooden dining chairs. She looked small, frail, underneath her large waterproof coat with her feet bare. She was staring at the floor, but continued to speak, as if she had been waiting for a reply she knew she wouldn't get.

"You know that everyone is worried, don't you? Why do you think that we kept trying to get in touch, because we didn't care?" she said with a small smile.

"No," I said back darkly, watching the smile fade and silently ruing what I had to say, "because you know damn well that he left the rights to me in his will. You need me to sell that land, and you know you'll never get it. So you've tried every trick haven't you, any underhand thing that my 'family' can think up, and you wonder why I'm hiding here like some cornered fucking animal? I'm not so naive as to think that any of you really care for me any further than the legal rights I hold, am I hitting the target?"

She blinked, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to figure out something too complex for her to handle whilst not breaking down again. I growled in the back of my throat at the thought that I was talking to someone who had absolutely no comprehension of the pain that this caused. She didn't understand that this was tearing me apart, couldn't she see?

"I think you should leave," I said suddenly, her expression transforming instantly to one of protest; I cut her off before she could start, "We have nothing more to say to each other. You've said your piece, now you can back and tell that bastard that you've done your bit and it didn't work."

I could see the last of her resistance failing as she opened her mouth, but then simply closed it without making a sound. She looked down at her hands, pulling them into the over-large sleeves of her jacket and pulling them down until only her fingertips were visible. She nodded, sniffing, and stood, walking straight out of the door without so much as a goodbye.

I fell back against the couch, closing my eyes and wishing to whoever would listen that no one else would come. I thought Hakkai's house would act as some sort of sanctuary, didn't he understand me either? I thought that Hakkai of all people understood that I wanted to be alone, I didn't want to deal with this, not yet...no, not _ever_. I didn't care if I was being cruel, I didn't care if I hurt others, I didn't care if they thought me heartless! They didn't understand, no one did!

"Ne, Yaone-san," I heard the muffled sound of Gojyo's voice through the still open doorway, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," she said back, her voice unsteady as I heard her replacing her shoes, "just...please take care of him, okay?"

"Hey now, don't cry okay," I sneered at the sound of rustling fabric, knowing without having to look that he was holding her, and listened guiltily to her sniffling sobs, "you know we will."

"He doesn't look well," she said softly, so softly I had to strain to hear her, "he's so thin. I'm worried, he won't listen to anything I say, anything any of us say."

"Just give him time," Gojyo said softly, accompanied by another loud rustling of fabric against fabric, "how about I give you a call when he's ready to talk ne? Save you coming all the way out here for nothing again."

"No," I could hear the smile in her voice, "it's good just to see him. I didn't come out just to convince him to sell the land, I wanted to see him too. It's been such a long time since Komyou died, but to him I think it's still only..."

I didn't hear the rest. The door slammed shut behind me and I was running, like a fool, like a coward, out into the pitch night under the battering rain. I ran and ran and didn't stop even as I quickly became soaked through. Coward, hypocrite, what is wrong with me? I can't even hear someone like her talk about him in such a light fashion, throwing his name out as if it was nothing. She didn't understand.

I was over the river and half way up the small hill that opened up behind Hakkai's garden before I realised exactly what I was doing. I looked down and could barely see my feet in the residual glow from the lights in the garden, it was almost pitch black up here on the hill. I steadied my breathing and tried not to start shivering, even though my now soaked jeans and top were no protection against the driving rain and the chill of the night.

What was I doing out here? I fell to my knees and felt the grass tear underneath them, felt the mud slick against my hands as I fell forwards. I bunched my hands into fists and took some small satisfaction in feeling the roots rip up, the dirt riding up under my nails. My hair was plastered to my face now. I couldn't stop the roaring of the rain in my ears. It was blinding, blocking everything out. I tried to open my mouth and scream, but even when I did I couldn't hear the sound over that incessant roar.

"...nzo, Sanzo! Where are you, answer me!" I pulled my head up, feeling my chest heaving in panic, and spun around.

The sudden flashlight blinded me, blocking its wielder from view, but as I slowly pulled myself back together I realised that it was only Hakkai. There was an odd drumming sound in the air as the light bobbed closer. As he approached and lowered his light I realised that the sound was coming from a bamboo umbrella he was holding, one the old fashioned parasol types, large and good for this kind of monsoon rain. I blinked at him and tried not to feel as foolish as I suddenly felt under his kind gaze.

"Why did you let her in?" I asked hoarsely, ignoring the pain in my voice.

"Gomen," Hakkai said as he stepped a little closer until I too was hidden beneath the shelter of the umbrella, "if I'd known she was going to upset you this much, I wouldn't have. Still, it is over a done with now, ne?"

"...Hakkai," I stalled, not knowing what to say as a sudden, hideous empty feeling swelled up inside me, pushing everything else out of my mind, "...I don't...what..."

"Don't worry, Gojyo called her a taxi to take her back to town, she'll be gone soon. Why don't we go back to the house and get you cleaned up, don't want you falling ill."

All I could do was nod dumbly, my hands numb as he pulled me up by the forearm and held me closed as he marked our route back to the house with the small puddle of light from the torch.

AN: Wowee that took far longer than it should ever have. I do apologise to anyone who has been waiting on an update for this story, and especially to Cruiseberry for not updating faster considering this was for you! Oops, gomen again. Still, at least it's done now, right? Okay, so a little bit of plot finally making its way docilely into my little story. I have plans, honest, but this fic won't be as long as the others, promise, so this one may actually be completed! What d you know. Again, sorry for the tardiness, hopefully there will be another update soon.


	3. Myopia

Disclaimer: I don't own Saiyuki, so don't sue me please! There's nothing of worth, I assure you.

**Chapter 3**

Myopia

I heard the phone call in fragments before Hakkai even bothered, or got a chance, to tell me about it

Or perhaps it was more that I heard the phone call in fragments before Hakkai even bothered, or _dared_, to tell me about it. As I stood, poised in the hallway, hand against the wall to steady myself, I listened to his subdued tone carefully mark out rules and invisible boundaries to whoever was on the other end of the line. I felt like I was hardly breathing by the end, until I heard the decisive click as Hakkai hung up, and forced myself to push one foot carefully in front of the other across the wooden floor as I continued on my way to the kitchen. The absent thought that it was extremely easy to eavesdrop in Hakkai's traditional Japanese style home floated to the forefront of my mind, as I tried futilely to push my other more pressing thoughts away.

_"No I don't think that it will be possible for Sanzo to come back to the temple right now...I understand that, but this is hardly the time to...you know it's very rude to interrupt people, don't you?"_

Hakkai certainly had a unique telephone manner, and that was the understatement of the year. He managed to make polite and dangerous sound simultaneous. I turned in through the doorway and walked over to the counter. I was forcing myself not to think about it now, not to focus on his words and their meaning. I had been gone for months now, and I hadn't spared a thought to the temple more than to worry that the idiots couldn't manage to hold them off by themselves, but that as long as they couldn't get to me they wouldn't have too much trouble. No point in threatening people with no power whatsoever, had been my main thought.

Yet now, _now_ they were harassing me suddenly. Ever since Yaone showed up here to bleed her heart all over the floor it had been like some invisible flare had been sent up. Sanzo is now available for mental torture regarding his work duties, family duties and general headaches for all of the above. I might as well be walking around naked with a flashing neon flag strapped to my back, I felt just as exposed, if not perhaps as flamboyant about it. Yet...

Yet, technically, I was hiding. No, not technically, I _was_ full out hiding, in my only friend's house and hoping that from now on he would vet my visitors more forcefully. Still, there was no escaping that I was hiding, refusing to see what was happening around me, what I _needed_ to realise and perhaps even accept. No, not accept, that's not what I meant; perhaps what I thought was more 'deal with'. I had thought in my own way that this exile had been dealing with the situation, but I was obviously quite wrong.

I stared down into the glistening, familiar sink, shivering slightly. Of course before all this crap had dropped itself unceremoniously into my life my constitution could have practically fought off the plague. Now all I had to do was be in the rain for ten minutes and I was sick as a dog four hours later. I pushed my palm up over my sweaty forehead and winced at the burning skin, pushing my hand back to the sink and trying to ignore as it slid with sweat against the stainless steel. I could feel Hakkai watching me from the couch, phone still resting in his lap.

"You shouldn't be up," he said softly, standing to replace the phone on the small end table, "I told you to call through if you needed anything."

"...I can walk," I said, wondering if he knew that I'd been listening to him, half wishing it was easier to lie to Hakkai.

"I can see that," he smiled and leaned next to me against the counter, arms folded, "but if you want to get better, you're going to have to rest and I mean _rest_ Sanzo. That does not include sneaking outside in the middle of the night for a cigarette, sitting outside in the garden when the wind turns cold and most importantly, thinking you can do everything on your own."

"Tch," I said, letting my weight fall fully onto my hands and my head hang down as a dizzy wave swamped me and I was forced to hide it, "man can't even get himself some tea around here without being bitched at?"

"I'll get your tea, and some more medicine, it's about time for your next dose anyway," Hakkai pushed up from the counter and busied himself with his tea set.

I stayed next to the sink until I felt my head stop swimming. I was pushing it by being up at all, but lying around all day was getting old fast. Sure I could handle it when I knew that it was possible for me to do whatever I wanted when I wanted even if I wasn't going to do it. Being bed ridden with no chance of escape, proper freedom and good health was another thing all together. I hated being ill. I also hated lying to Hakkai, no matter how much I wished I could get away with it and spare myself the hassle. This situation was only deteriorating and I...well...ah fuck it.

"I heard what you said," I said slowly, "on the phone."

"I know," Hakkai said softly, making me grind my teeth together; sometimes I wondered if Hakkai was just testing me, seeing how long I could hold out before folding.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Kougaiji-san," he said as he set out two small cups, "he was rather upset when Yaone-san returned home. She hadn't told anyone where she was going."

"What did that prick want?" I asked quickly, looking over to him through a sheen of golden hair, "Wait, why didn't she tell anyone she was coming to see me?"

"Because she knew that they'd want to come too," Hakkai clicked the kettle to on and ignored my first question completely, face a little blank, "and she wanted to see you without an entourage."

I looked away from him, yet I could still feel his eyes on me. I finally pushed away from the sink and slumped over to the dining table. The chair was hard and uncomfortable against my irritable skin and aching muscles, but I simply tried my best to ignore my wretched body and focus.

"Don't you think," Hakkai started, his tone changing slowly just as his expression had, "you were being rather harsh to her? It's not her fault that she's concerned for the wellbeing of both you and her relatives."

"I am her relative Hakkai," I snapped, trying to blink away the building pressure behind my eyes.

"Of course," he shrugged, lifting the kettle as it finished boiling and filling the small, ornate teapot, "but you know what I mean Sanzo, so please don't be difficult about it."

I snorted and mumbled out some sort of half insult that I wasn't even sure he heard. He put the cup of fresh green tea in front of me a moment later and, as I watched the steam rise from the calm surface, I wished that it was sake instead. I needed something to dull the pain that was beginning to throb through my temples. Damn Hakkai for being right, I shouldn't have gotten up at all, now I was paying for it. Another moment later and two small white pills appeared next to my tea cup, along with a tumbler of water. I looked at them in annoyance but picked them up and swallowed them anyway, downing the water in two gulps.

"So this is the start of it then?" I said tightly as I put down the glass.

"If you mean that they might be more forceful now, then yes I think you're right," Hakkai slid into the seat across from me and sipped his tea, "but you do know that you can stay here for as long as you like."  
"I know," I said with a nod that I had to stop as the pain flared and my head felt suddenly too hot, "but sometimes I wish that you would just tell me to get the hell out."

Hakkai's expression showed his surprise only briefly before it slipped back into the usual tight mask. He nodded, placing the cup down against the table and setting his hand against the wood, splaying his fingers.

"I'm going to go back," I said stubbornly, forcing myself to make up my mind, "to the temple. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's awful soon, and you're still ill," Hakkai said back so reasonably it made me want to throttle him, "you should think about it a little more before you make such a rash decision. You only came here in the first place because you said it was becoming unbearable staying there."

"Well it's starting to have the same effect here," I bit out, hesitating and then offering a tight, "no offence."

"None taken," Hakkai shrugged again, smile in place, "but I still feel you should think it over, and if you still want to, then stay here until you get your strength back."

I felt sweat beading at the hollow between my shoulder blades, steadily collecting until it slid irritably down my spine to soak into the waistband of my trousers. I shivered, feeling suddenly cold, wondering if this fever would break tonight so I could prove Hakkai wrong and force myself to journey tomorrow. Of course, Hakkai being Hakkai would surely be right, he always was. It was one of his hideously annoying traits, of which he possessed only a few.

"Shit," I said finally, lifting the tea unsteadily and taking a messy sip that seemed to scald my throat as I swallowed, even though my lips didn't register the heat, "fine, if that's the way you want it."

"It is," Hakkai's eyes were dancing as he looked away towards the clock; twelve seventeen in the morning.

"You should get some rest," I said ironically, keeping my hand curved around the ceramic to see how long I could stand the heat, "you have a conference tomorrow don't you?"

"I don't need to leave until nine thirty," Hakkai said evenly and then smiled "and I can't believe you said that with a straight face."

Later on, around two, I found my mind wondering on the edge of sleep. And it dragged up strange memories and paraded them in front of me like some bizarre slide show. I had simply blinked at the ceiling, drifting in and out of consciousness, and wondered inane things to myself while I felt sleep claim me. When I finally closed my eyes, visions of Hakkai's brat started to form and I ground my teeth together. Golden eyes, such a contrast to his demeanour. He was brash and loud and happy-go-lucky but...those eyes. They seemed to me somehow filled with sadness. When I had spotted him in the garden two days ago, he had talked to me again and I had tried to dismiss him back and failed. There was something..intriguing about him. Then I had finally forced myself to meet those eyes again, those strange eyes, and something seemed to snap in my head. I realised that things weren't what they seemed, I hold myself as a very good judge of character. And yet all I could think was that the only pure thing I thought I had found in all these long years since the day I lost my happiness was just as tainted as I was.

And the thought made me want to scream.

* * *

It was light when I awoke, streaming into my eyes through the red flesh of my eyelids. I blinked groggily and wished that I could just turn over and go back to sleep. Instead I simply lay and watched the dust floating through the ragged sunbeams. The air was still, only distant bird song breaking the silence. I felt my body slowly awakening, scrunching my toes, pushing them out, reaching out finally to lift the warm covers from my chest and stretch properly. I pulled my feet over the edge of the bed and felt around the cold carpet for my slippers.

Another day of my wonderful school holidays had started. Every other normal kid was asleep, happily, dreaming about waking up and going on a trip to the beach or something fun, something _worth_ looking forward to. I was up at...I picked up the clock and winced; seven thirty. I was going to be at Hakkai-san's for about nine. To study. On my holidays. Still...anything beat being here.

I stepped quietly out of my bedroom after grabbing a long shirt and pulling it over my gooseflesh arms. The shower was lukewarm and seeped sleep back into my bones. I gave up trying to be fully awake and just opted for a zombie-like state. I crept back to my room and towel dried my hair, dragged on my jeans, my last clean long sleeve shirt and tried not to think about having to come back tonight. I wished silently that Hakkai-san didn't have to go away today, I was kinda going to miss him and it made me feel stupid.

And sad.

I shook my head and started filling my rucksack with books. At least I would get the day to myself, I kept saying over and over, I would get peace and quiet, I would be left _alone_. No one to worry about, not having to look over my shoulder all the time and...and maybe I'd get to see him again...

No. This was becoming stupid. I scowled as I finished shoving my text books haphazardly into my pack. I grabbed my coat from the back of my door and slung the pack over one shoulder. The silence hardly wavered as I stepped back into the hallway and crept to the stairs. I hated the nervous stutter that started in my stomach, like snakes writhing. I told myself to calm down, but it never worked. I tried not to hate him, but that didn't work either. I tried not to hate myself and failed at that too.

The kitchen was cold through my thin slippers; the sun hadn't reached this room yet. The lights buzzed and clinked a little before settling their cool light over the worktops. I put down my heavy backpack against the counter and absently scratched my arm, then stopped as quickly as I had started, feeling suddenly sick. I had done well, so well, in forgetting last night. I walked over to the fridge and tried, _tried_ not to look at the cooker but it didn't work. My eyes didn't leave it even as I opened the fridge and rummaged for something edible. The black surface was spotlessly clean, as if someone had scrubbed it within an inch of its life. I continued to grope blindly and finally put my hand on something. I pulled out the something and wrenched my eyes from the cooker to look at a tinfoil ball. I pulled back the crisp wrapping to see two onigiri nestled inside. I frowned, pulling the foil back over and setting it back into exactly the same place I had found it. Part of me was screaming to take them and screw the bastard, eat his lunch, see how he liked it, but my eyes were on the cooker again and I closed the fridge door silently. As I stepped back and picked up my pack I could feel the bandage I had been ignoring move under my shirt sleeve.

I shrugged to settle the pack a little better on my back and put my hand in my pocket for my keys. I stalled. My fingers pushed around inside the materiel, poking into unlikely corners and then hurriedly searching the other pocket. Shit, no keys, where the hell had I put my keys? I put my bag down again and did a quick check of the kitchen. Nothing. I stepped back into the downstairs hallway and eyed the stairs, pulling at my lip with my teeth. I prodded my way up with great care not to make any noise, but somehow, when you're trying to be quiet, things usually work against you right? Of course they do, so every second step creaked. I grimaced but forced myself forwards. I tried to creep around my room but my stealth only made me bump into things, knock my feet off of the walls and push things onto the floor. My heart was beginning to thump in my chest and I had to think about breathing quietly. By the time I found my keys, fallen down the back of my bedside table, I couldn't help running down the stairs. I thought I'd make it out before anyone woke up. It never occurred to me that he was already awake.

The hand caught me around the collar of my shirt and I gagged as it pulled tight and forced me to stop. I coughed and turned, masking my face quickly as I eyed the man with his hand fisted in my clothing. He stood on the second step, making him seem too tall.

"I told you not to wake me up," his voice was low, gruff with sleep, and froze my muscles with each word, "it's a very simple request, don't you think?"

I just nodded, fingers itching to grab his offending hand and tear it away. Feet itching to run.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically, swallowing, feeling the fear pooling in my stomach and hating, hating, _hating_...

"You fucking will be if you don't get out of this house, right now," his face came into view as he stepped forwards and slowly, dangerously, pushed me up against the wall; my breath caught in my throat, I forced it back out, "I don't want to see you again today, understand?"

I nodded, shoulders shaking, my mind still confused in some way that I couldn't find the wherewithal to push him away. He gave me another rough shove against the wall as a warning, and then walked past me into the kitchen. The bastard didn't even glance at the cooker once. I could feel my blood running hard through my veins, biting down on my tongue to kick start me out of my paralysis. I grabbed my bag and pulled it on, changing my slippers for my shoes while ignoring the itching crawling all over my skin as I put him out of my line of sight. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and felt the metal dig into my hand as I unlocked the door.

* * *

I had been wrong, it was worse when I woke up. The room was blessedly dark, the offending sunlight trapped behind heavy curtains, casting odd shadows against the walls. The headache that had been hovering around my temples the night before was now thrumming steadily across the front of my forehead, making my eyes sensitive. I blinked slowly and then closed them again, holding the picture of the room in my mind as I tried not to concentrate on the pain. The shades of the room had remained there, like a still photo. I watched it slowly fade against my eyelids before reopening my eyes again. The pain however, forced them shut again. Something in my memory twitched. Something about the room...somehow it reminded me a little of a tomb I had been taken to visit when I was nine. The memory appeared before me like a slowly moving silent film as my mind wandered.

It had been oddly bare I had thought, devoid of life, just a dirty floor, ceiling and walls. Not the grand tomb of emperors I had seen in books, it looked sad in comparison. Yet, as I stood away from the other children that had been brought on the outing, something had occurred to me. A place of the dead did not need foolish offerings, gifts, none of that mattered. It was then, I think for the first time, I understood that tombs, graves, funeral ceremonies, weren't for the dead at all. They were for the living, to help them accept that their loved ones were gone and they were never coming back.

I had looked at the painted animals against the walls, Suzaku the red bird of the South, Byakko the white tiger of the West, and listened to my masters soft voice explain about how the Tumulus, as he called it, was fashioned. I remember he held a candle in his hands to compliment the bare sunlight that flowed in from the open entranceway. It had danced against his hair as he moved, his smile never leaving even as he spoke openly of death. The light seemed to radiate out from him, as a centre, his cream robes glowing calmly. I remember looking up and noticing that the candle light caused the gold leaf covered constellations ingrained into the rock to dance and flicker, just like real stars. When I had looked back, he was smiling right at me.

Next thing I knew I was stumbling down the hallway to purge my already pitifully empty stomach into the toilet. I gasped and spat as I clung to the porcelain, feeling the burning bile against my throat and trying to ignore the vile taste invading my mouth. I spat once more before pulling myself up using the sink and rinsing out my mouth. I flushed the toilet absently and cringed as I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror. Heavy dark circles under my eyes, clammy, pale skin, hair plastered to the sides of my face with sweat. I jammed the tap back on to full and splashed the cold water onto my heated skin, gasping.

"Sanzo? Are you alright?" Hakkai's voice from the open doorway didn't startle me; I looked up to the clock in the bathroom, it read nine o'clock.

"Fine," I ground out bitterly, "are you leaving?"

"Yes, I'm going to just head out now, they sent the car early to pick me up," I managed to look round to his stark silhouette against the sun bright corridor, and took in his insulting smile, "ah, yes, Sanzo you are a picture of health this fine morning. I have succumbed to your logic, I think you should be back at the temple right now leading the..."  
"Any more of you sarcasm and you'll be going to your conference covered in vomit," I threatened adequately.

His smile simply broadened, eyes closed, and he nodded. I slowly took in the rest of his appearance; dark blue suit and tie, white shirt, briefcase. Hakkai cut quite the the handsome figure when he tried, unlike someone like Gojyo who just looked like a pimp in any suit he wore. Ah damn, that kappa would be here today, wouldn't he.

"Gojyo will be round at about ten," Hakkai said eerily, "I asked Goku to come around a little later today as I'm leaving early."

Shit. I felt my fingers curl around the sink edge and wondered why it was even bothering me anymore. For once, as I felt my irrational panic subside, I was actually glad that I was ill. Gave me a good reason to hide and an even better one not to be disturbed.

At all.

On pain of death.

"Right," I shrugged, flinching at the ache running through my shoulders, down my back to rest firmly at the base of my spine.

"Go back to bed Sanzo," Hakkai said softly, with genuine concern, "I've left Gojyo a note, he knows what's in the fridge and the cupboards, just order him about if you need anything, okay?"

"Hn," I let out a raw laugh at that statement, looking Hakkai straight in the eyes, "he really signed his soul away when he started fu..."

"Dating me?" Hakkai cut in quickly.

"That wasn't what I was going to say," I started to shrug again but changed my mind.

"I know," Hakkai said as he pushed back from the doorway and turned to walk away down the corridor, "take care of yourself Sanzo, I'll see you tomorrow."

I had done as I was told, for once. But the pain only sat inside my muscles and ate away at my patience. The room steadily moved with subtle shadows as the day slowly progressed. My mind faltered as I tried to think of something calming to set my tense nerves at ease. Thoughts and images flashed once more through my mind's eye, slipping and jerking like a cut run of celluloid.

"_So you stay here with Hakkai-san?" his voice had been less hesitant, as though he was becoming accustomed to my harsh nature._

_I hadn't answered right away. I was sitting next to the river, absently throwing in single strands of grass, one after the other. I had been pretending he wasn't there for the past twenty minutes since he had shown up, sitting in my spot beneath the maple tree, open text book in his lap. But I could feel his eyes on me and somehow I couldn't ignore that._

"_Yes," I said simply._

"_Right," I turned my head and felt disconcerted when I realised he wasn't watching me anymore, yet I had still felt the presence of his eyes on my back, "so, uh, where do you usually stay?"_

_I turned back to the river and watched the clear water flow smoothly over the flat stones lying on its bed. This was the third time I had actually talked to him. If we did happen to end up in the same space, he usually kept his mouth shut, even if I could feel him watching me. Not this time it seemed. I sighed and resigned myself to talking._

"_A temple in the city," I said evenly, feeling no need to lie to him, maybe he would stop his questions if I simply answered them without resistance._

"_Temple?" I heard the book shifting as he moved but didn't look over, "Why do you stay there?"_

"_You really are as stupid as Gojyo says you are," I snorted out, throwing another strand into the flow and watching it disappear._

"_I'm not stupid," the more I heard the angry retort from his lips the more I realised that it seemed instinctive; the thought made me wonder inside, that he obviously had to defend himself often, "why can't you just tell me straight?"_

"_What makes you think you can talk to me like that?" I let my eyes narrow as I turned to watch him, seeing him flinch slightly at my words and my open anger; I sighed and shook my head, "I live there because I run the damn temple."_

"_...You," his voice was stupefied, "_you're_ a monk?"_

"_What, got a problem with that?" I spat back, hackles rising; you'd think that over the years I would have become accustomed to peoples shock on proclaiming myself head of a temple._

"_Uh, heh," he shook off his shock and laughed shortly but easily; he scratched the back of his head, teeth showing, "guess you're just not the typical stereotype huh?"_

"_Guess I'm not," I had said back tightly._

"_Well, that's kinda cool though," he shrugged, text book drooping forgotten against the grass, "so you must have to train pretty hard then."_

"_Not really," I found myself saying back carelessly, then frowning when I realised that I was falling into this conversation far too easily._

"_Aw come one," his grin was back, "you must know loadsa stuff, sutras and ceremonies and taijutsu, right?"_

_I threw the last of the grass into the stream in a confused bundle that bobbed quickly out of sight. I looked up to the sun and squinted at the white clouds. The training I had received had never really seemed anything to me, perhaps simply because I had been adopted into the temple so young that I couldn't remember anything else. It was my life because he had made it so, but also because it was the only home I had ever known._

"_Right," I said back finally, just when I felt he was about to give up on my answer._

"_Yeah?" he actually sounded excited, "Could you show me some?"_

"_What?" now I turned fully to watch him, feeling a little incredulous._

"_I mean, if you want to, I mean, well," he faltered as I narrowed my eyes again, noting he'd placed the textbook fully out of the way now, "you just seemed kinda bored and, well, I'm pretty bored too so..."_

"_So you thought that it would be interesting to ask to spar with a man you've barely met and is probably eight years your senior?"_

"_You're twenty five?" he said, once more looking shocked, "you don't look that old."_

"_I'm twenty four brat," I said tersely, realising suddenly, "you're only seventeen?"_

"_Yeah," he shrugged lightly, "it's my birthday in three weeks though."_

"_Oh," was all I could say back to that, feeling suddenly at a loss; I snorted derisively as he began to shuffle his feet against the grass, "fine."_

_His eyes almost physically lit up. His smile fixed in place he nodded. I realised, as he fell back onto his heels and waited for me to do something, that I wasn't thinking any more about the things I'd been trying to avoid. I have never proclaimed myself a good teacher on any level, I'm far too impatient and don't really care enough, but I have always found the act of it focusing and distracting. I stood up and faced him._

"_You ever done any martial arts before?" I asked casually as I rolled up the sleeves on my white shirt.  
"What did you do to your arm?" he almost interrupted me and I watched his face change instantly when he spied the white bandage I had revealed._

"_Nothing," I said back irritably, "answer my question."_

"_Uh, okay," he blinked and looked away from the bandage, "yeah, I take Aikido lessons."_

"_Right, well," I shook out my arms, "show me what you know then."_

"_Huh? But I thought you were gonna..." he looked a little confused._

"_I can't just start showing you techniques without knowing what I'm building on," I said tightly, eyeing him with scorn, "show me."_

_He seemed uncomfortable suddenly but soon put his limbs into a recognisable stance. When he did move towards me I was surprised at his speed. He had seemed to me almost ungainly in his movements, but now I could see him practicing the control that his chosen art commanded. He grabbed my wrist and pushed it to my waist, fingers wrapped around my own, pivoted, pressure blossoming along my elbow and flipped me to the ground. I was lying on my back staring at the sky again. I listened to him let his breath out unsteadily and pushed up onto my forearms. He was looking at me worriedly, as if he had not only been expecting me to block the entire sequence but also that I might kill him now that I was free of the kotegaeshi move he'd used._

"_Uh, I'm sorry, really, I'm sorry, I didn't think that you'd actually let me and..." he was speaking too fast and it pissed me off so quickly that I had to cut in just to shut him up._

"_Be quiet," I ground out, silencing him, "I told you to show me what you knew, and you did. You don't need to apologise, idiot."_

"_Alright," he said finally, adding with a frown, "and I'm not an idiot."_

The memory ran dry as I opened my eyes again. I didn't think that the brat had any skills, but his grasp of Aikido and his ability to learn quickly (when it came to martial arts anyway, Hakkai's subjects required Hakkai's patience) had surprised me. Also, when Hakkai had finally come out into the garden to call Goku back in to the house only find us both standing facing each other, grass stained and slightly sweaty, I realised that what I was doing wasn't entirely normal. Well, not for me anyway. I hadn't seen him at all the next day, what had been yesterday, and I found it strange that I felt the itching need to talk to someone. By about lunchtime I was so restless I actually went for a walk up the hill which I ended up running up later that night in the rain.

Suddenly tapping filled my distracted mind. I started badly and lost my train of thought as the sound irritated my headache. When the tapping at the door turned to a knocking, stopping as I sat up, then turned to a not so subtle thump, I sighed through closed teeth. Gojyo had his own fucking keys, the asshole should not be making this much noise just because he was so forgetful that it made that brat of Hakkai's seem like a...ah shit, forget it, the only way to shut him up was to let him in and then force him to be quiet. I stumbled blearily down the hallway, still dressed in the soft black sweatpants Hakkai had lent to me after he'd stripped me of my wet ones last night, and a loose black t-shirt. I opened the door with a bitter insult on my tongue that never made it out of my mouth.

"Ah, gomen..." startled golden eyes regarded me, hand raised half way to the door again before I had opened it; it sounded like there should be more, but his mouth just closed silently and he let his hand drop to his side.

"...Hakkai said you'd be here late," I said because I didn't know what to say, and it was all that was going around in my head as my mind adjusted.

"Kus...uh, yeah guess I forgot," he cut his curse short and the look of condescension that split over his face for a few seconds just seemed unnatural and out of place.

"It doesn't matter, get inside," I said quickly, stepping back and letting him in.

"Thanks," he said, smile returning like a familiar and convincing mask, slipping off his shoes and putting on the slippers Hakkai had left out for him.

I watched his slender form disappear into the study down the hall and blinked. Shit. The headache slowly sank in through the surprised aching haze of the breaking fever and I put my hand out to steady myself against the wall. I closed the door slowly and heard him move quietly through the hallway again as he exited the study, towards the kitchen. I felt my senses prick and suddenly felt the need to lie down. Only a week, he'd only been coming here a week and yet I could...

I could feel the difference in his presence, _feel_ that something was wrong on many different levels. His personality forced him to be brazen and brash, hot tempered, quirky but happy. For having tried my best to ignore his visits entirely, four unprecedented and short conversations, three accidental run-ins and one fight later and I was reading him like I had known him for months. He'd been preying on my mind more than I had obviously admitted to myself. Or perhaps I'm just being a melodramatic idiot.

I moved slowly back towards my bedroom but changed my mind half way there and instead turned right into the kitchen. I moved over to the cupboard next to the sink and pulled out a box of medical supplies. I raked for Hakkai's pain killers and swallowed two dry. I heard him wander into the kitchen but didn't look. When I finally dared to glance over to the boy standing on the other side of the table I realised he was reading from a sheet of paper held between both hands. He was leaning forwards against the table, pelvis pressed against the wood as he balanced on the balls of his feet. I studied him from the corner of my eye and wondered what exactly was different about this morning than all the other mornings he'd been turning up here to study. He didn't look any different but there was a calmness surrounding him that I hadn't thought him capable of. He wasn't making a sound, he wasn't speaking or being annoying.

He was even ignoring me, and in all honesty I had noticed that all of our accidental meetings hadn't been entirely accidental. Previously he had seemed to want to talk to me. Yet now he was trying his best to seem invisible.

Why did it matter? Huh, no I shouldn't be asking myself that. I knew why it was. I had actually found myself interested in something other than my own self absorbed pity and hopelessness and now that seemed to have disappeared.

"Um," I looked over my shoulder and into his averted eyes.

"What?" I asked when he didn't continue, steadying myself against the counter.

"You don't look well," he shrugged and put the paper down on the table, small frown creasing his brown.

"It's nothing," I looked away from him, towards the bright windows behind the couch.

"Just the same way your arm is nothing, right?" he didn't even seem to mean anything by it as he referred to our earlier conversation, his hand snaking out restlessly to trail his fingers against the tabletop.

"...What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I bit out, shoulders shaking slightly with the effort that it was taking to stand.

"Uh," he blinked, as if realising who he was talking to, "nothing, just...nothing."

I sighed harshly, watching out of the corner of my eye as he shrugged out of his light summer jacket and put it over the back of one of the dining chairs. The long sleeved white shirt underneath was slightly baggy and seemed too hot for the sunny weather outside. He scratched absently at his forearm and looked back out of the doorway leading to the hall.

"Well, I'm just gonna..." he started but then he looked back at me and his eyes narrowed, "are you really alright? You're shaking..."

"I told you, I'm _fine_," I repeated, pushing away from the counter and walking unsteadily towards the same doorway he'd been looking through.

I knew after a few steps that my knees were going to give but was too stubborn to stop. I heard his feet thump around the table quickly as I started to fall and, in an act of desperation I grabbed onto the arm that he stretched out to stop my fall. I wasn't sure if it was the cry of pain that he let out, or simply the awkward angle in which I fell that forced me let go of his arm, but somehow I ended up crumpled on the floor. I bit out a hiss as I made contact, jarring my already tender nerves and making my head spin. I blinked, as if suddenly realising that the boy had sounded like he was in pain, and looked up to see him with his back to me, leaning over the sink.

"Shit," I swore as I pushed up, trying not to sound harsh but not having the energy to stop myself, "what the hell did you do that for?"

"S-sorry," he said, tone slightly strangled; he didn't turn around.

"...What the hell is wrong with you?" I mumbled out, pushing up on unsteady hands to kneel on the floor, pulling in a long breath.

Somehow I managed to get back to my feet, with the help of the dining room table and a stubborn streak a mile wide, and look over at him. The lid was back off the medical box I had pulled out and I could see him sneaking a bandage into the pocket of his jeans, before he replaced it. When he looked round and caught me watching, he flinched, then looked to the floor.

"Are you okay now?" he asked.

"What's wrong with your arm?" I said seriously, taking him off guard as he looked up at me with wide eyes.

"I just burnt it, it'll be fine," he said, shaking his head.

"Let me see it," I said back.  
"I told you, it'll be fine," his face seemed to set; I wondered absently if stubbornness was contagious?

"I wasn't asking you, idiot," I barked out, "now show me your damn arm. If you don't treat it properly, you'll end up have to learn how to Aikido one handed, understand?"

He opened his mouth to say something else before a pained look flickered over his face and he turned his head back towards the sink. His shoulders seemed to slump before he turned around, pulled out a dining room chair and fell into it. I was glad that he had, I didn't want to think that my authority was losing any of its potency just because I had been away from the temple for a few months. I dragged out the chair next to his and sat. I tried to ignore the fact that this put us too close, but didn't have energy to make it to any of the other chairs. Since our first unceremonious greeting outside the bathroom I had not mentioned the incident at all, and neither had he. There seemed to be a unanimous, unspoken agreement to forget it had ever happened.

"Put your arm on the table," I ordered, looking at his youthful face, and didn't like the blankly resigned look I saw.

He set out his right arm tenderly. I hesitated slightly before reaching out to lift his arm and pulled his shirt sleeve up to just below his elbow. The bandage underneath was surprisingly well wrapped, stark white against his tanned skin, and very new. I put his arm back down gently.

"Have you replaced it?" I asked perfunctorily.

"No," he shook his head, "I only put it on last night."

"Idiot," I said back, "then you should replace it now. Give me the bandage you have in your pocket."

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked down to the table, his left hand crossing over to his right jeans pocket. He pulled out the plastic wrapped bandage and placed it on the table. I grabbed the packaging in both hands and tore it open easily. I left it nestled inside its open wrapper, careful not to let the sterile bandage touch the tabletop. Then I reached out and unpinned the safety pin holding the bandage in place. He didn't make a sound as I unwrapped it, lifting his arm up higher and winding the bandage as I unrolled it. I only stopped when I had fully removed it, but my eyes had narrowed long before I had finished. I stared at the angry red, glossy surface of the burn, seeming about second degree in severity, about the size of a fist in size, located midway up the underside of his forearm. It was then that I noticed the bruises that accompanied the burn, long and thin around his wrist. When I looked up to ask him what the hell _this_ was supposed to be, he was looking at his wrist like a trapped animal.

I realised that he probably hadn't noticed they were there either, the bandage he had put on last night would have covered his wrist. The bruises would have formed out of sight. I felt a hideous sinking feeling in my gut. I couldn't stop my mouth from moving.

"Who the hell did this?" I hardly recognised my own voice, it was dark and barely calm.

"I told you," he shook his head, quite convincing in his switch back to normal, even managing to look into my eyes as he said, "I burned myself."

"That's a pretty stupid thing to do," I ground out, "getting yourself a second degree burn that big on the underside of your arm."

"Hey, it's not like I did it on purpose," he frowned, looking too angry just to have been angered by my slight; I felt my hands clenching into fists.

"What about the bruises," I asked quickly.

"I..." he faltered, "when I was holding my arm under the tap, I was holding onto my wrist. I must have held on too hard that's all, it hurt like nothing else, can you blame me?"

He was speaking too fast again. The bruises did look like finger marks, but there was something about the way he was telling me, it looked and sounded like a cover. A small voice in the back of my mind said that perhaps I should stop being such a pushy bastard about this, if the kid didn't want to tell me, then I should leave him alone. However, if I was right, then like hell I was going to leave it. He kept his eyes staring straight into my own however, and he didn't look away. Finally, annoyingly, I was the one to break contact. I looked back down to the angry burn and sighed.

"Fine," I said resignedly, feeling my anger ebb as he relaxed, "hold it up a little higher."

I was careful as I replaced the non-adhesive bandage around the burn. He didn't look at me while I worked, eyes back on the tabletop again. He seemed to be watching the shadow of the trees that were cast in through the living room windows. It was only when I pushed up his shirt sleeve a little further, to get it out the way when the material slid down, that I froze and my anger returned full force. Matching bruises, looping around his elbow. I looked up, but he wasn't watching me and didn't seem to have noticed. I struggled for three seconds between telling him what I had seen and forcing him to explain _that_ away or saying nothing. I finally pinned off the bandage carefully and steadied my breathing, somehow managing to force myself to opt for the later.

"You should see a doctor about that," I said finally, pulling his gaze from the tabletop, "make sure it doesn't get infected."

He nodded absently; I could see how uncomfortable he was just from the set of his shoulders.

"Thanks," he said eventually, pushing back with his feet to slide his chair out a little further so he could stand, "are...are you feeling okay now?"

I blinked and looked up at him. I noticed, with confusion, that my headache was no longer as strong as it had been moments before. My limbs still felt weak but I wasn't about to ask him for help back to my room. I did have some pride after all. I opened my mouth to reply but was cut short by the sound of the door opening down the hall.

"Hey, anyone up?" came Gojyo's annoying drawl, then the sound of approaching feet.

Goku quickly tugged the sleeve of his shirt down to hide the bandage. I looked to my right to see Gojyo standing in the doorway to the hall, a bag of shopping in his hands.

"Oh, you're here already brat," he smirked, "thought you were getting here later."

"...Forgot," he said quietly, shrugging, seeming to look self conscious for a moment before simply nodding at us both and stepping quickly out of the room.

"Hey!" Gojyo intoned irritably as Goku all but pushed past him, "watch what you're doing!"

He disappeared into the study before either of us could say anything more. Gojyo let out a terse sound of annoyance before walking into the kitchen to put his bag down on the table. He looked at me however and his smirk returned.

"You look like shit," he proclaimed, "take it we have your cheerful manners to account for his behaviour huh?"

"Leave me the hell alone," I said seriously, "I'm not in the fucking mood."

His eyes seemed to widen slightly at that but he shrugged it off and began unpacking the bag in front of him instead. I watched detachedly as his long fingers dipped in and out of the brown paper, bringing out fruit and cans and cleaning products. I felt like telling him that the fridge was already stocked but then stopped myself. Surely Gojyo would never go shopping without strict instructions from Hakkai in the first place. I shook my head when he asked if I was hungry, trying my hardest to clear my mind of thoughts. But the livid red mark was not the thing which had etched itself into my mind, it was his expression. Something was definitely wrong, he hadn't done that himself, he was lying to me. I felt my eyes close softly as Gojyo moved around the kitchen putting things away, doors opening and closing, drawers rolling in and out.

Why the fuck did I care so much?

AN: Ooo quick update ne? I am amazed at myself! Yikes, and this chapter just wouldn't die, it's so damn long! Okay, sorry for the major angst, but this story is just going to get darker. Don't worry, of course that leaves loads of room for comfort later on! Yay! Now, to thank the reviewers properly this time...

To Imina – Thanks! Well, the angst kind of keeps on running over! Oops, well I hope you liked the update!

To Azamiko – Damn, putting Goku in is only seeming to make Sanzo worse ne? Although, at least he isn't being a self pitying jerk any more...

To Melchan13 – Sanzo does appreciate hugs, honest, he just shows his love by trying to shoot you in the head afterwards! Honest...eh...

To fouloldron – Thanks, you're very kind. I hope this update is sufficient and you enjoy it! This one really did come round far quicker than the other two, I'll try to keep it up.


	4. Abjection

Disclaimer: Not mine! I don't own Saiyuki or the characters depicted therein.

NB:*(102 Fahrenheit)

Chapter 4

Abjection

The medicine that Gojyo brought helped, even if only to numb the pain in my muscles and my throbbing temples. My fever had peaked at 39 degrees* by eleven o'clock and had slowly receded as the day wore on. Now when Gojyo finally worked up the stamina to actually visit my room, where I was lying dejectedly on the futon staring into space, he didn't hiss dramatically as he touched my forehead. Now it was only with a slight grimace and a wry smirk at the resulting glare he received for daring to touch me in the first place. I would have normally batted him away, but in all honesty, I didn't have the strength. The energy I had shown earlier when the brat had arrived had all but seeped away into the sheets beneath me as I stayed as still as possible and focused my energy on getting better. Slowly, under the currents of background noise, when my fever was at its peak and Gojyo had been forcing water down my throat like I was a god damned camel getting ready for a three week stint across the desert, I thought I heard myself chanting mumbled sutras which I was sure I had told myself I wouldn't repeat ever again. When I woke later that day I had expected the sky to be black.

Instead, it was still the silvery blue of mid afternoon.

"You shouldn't be up," a familiar tone groused at me as I shuffled into the living room and tried to sit as gracefully as possible onto the long low couch, "if it gets out that I didn't compel you stay in bed and force feed you broth all day, then my life won't be worth fucking living."

I found Gojyo stirring something in a pot over Hakkai's antique stove, long hair tied back into a loose pony tail, his eyes fixed on the contents of the bubbling...whatever the hell he'd decided to massacre for lunch. I simply let my head fall back against the back of the couch and ignored the light trying to pry in through my now tightly shut eyelids. I could practically hear him glaring at me.

"Not my problem," I would have shrugged but thought twice about it, "that a man thirteen pounds lighter and two inches shorter than you can make you weep and beg like a little girl."

There was an ominous silence. The only reason I ignored its dangerous potential was because I knew Gojyo would never pick a fight with me while I was ill. Not only would Hakkai punish him doubly hard for not only letting me up and about but also trying to kill me, but Gojyo also knew that I fight that much dirtier than I usually do when I'm ill. Hair pulling and biting are not out of the question. When the silence continued to drag on however I gave in to my curiosity and cracked open an eye. I found Gojyo's dirty bedroom eyes raking me up and down. I sneered and felt the need to curl in on myself.

"Why Sanzo," he almost purred, leaning forwards on the balls of his feet and watching me even more intensely, "I never knew that you were listening at our bedroom door the other night."  
"Don't look at me like that you filthy kappa!" I barked out through a hoarse throat that I'd been trying to avoid using, "and I really don't need to hear the intimate details of your sexual fantasies thank you very much. I would like to sleep tonight without waking up screaming in a cold sweat."  
"Suit yourself," Gojyo shrugged, the only reason I knew he was still teasing was because he couldn't wipe the self satisfied smirk off of his face, "I don't know how Hakkai would take it but, out of charity for someone who I know for sure isn't getting any, I'm always up for putting on a free show..."  
"No thanks," I bit out tersely, closing my eye again and trying to block out the sound of his voice and focus on the bubbling of the pan, the sound of the wind in the trees outside...  
"Of course I'd probably have to charge you, I don't want to give my patented sexual techniques away for free now do I?" he continued as if oblivious to anyone else being in the room at all, "because I mean Hakkai really likes it when I slip tw..."  
"Enough!" I spat, forcing myself up off the couch with sheer strength of will, "I'll go back to bed, you win!"  
"Ha, you're so easy," he let out a light chuff of breath as he watched me stagger slightly on my feet, "but you need to rest and you never listen to anything _I_ tell you. Can you blame me for not fighting fair?"  
"The list of things that I blame you for is so extensive," I said bitterly as I wobbled towards the door, "that adding one more thing wouldn't really make that much difference, believe me."

It was only as I reached the living room door back out into the hall, hand outstretched to push it to the side, that the other door in the kitchen slid open and a voice floated into the open space.

"I'm going out," despite its usual exuberance, his voice sounded almost timid, "I don't need lunch."

The last time I had seen such a look of complete and utter dumbfounded shock on Gojyo's face, it had been three years ago when Hakkai and I had been debating the pro's and con's of marriage. Gojyo had zoned out of the conversation and thus was completely thrown when Hakkai had turned to him and flat out asked how he would he feel meeting Hakkai's parents next weekend and what was his stand point on adoption. It had taken him thirty open mouthed seconds to tentatively point out that Hakkai's parents were both dead, to which Hakkai had frowned, said that he was well aware of that fact thank you and explained the entire situation was hypothetical, baka. Gojyo's relief had been audible.

But this...why was he looking so completely shocked by this simple statement from our house guest?

"You...don't want anything to eat?" Gojyo mumbled out as if the words were foreign entities, eyes still fixed on the figure just beyond the doorway.  
"Nah, I'm fine, thanks though," he added quickly, "I had a big breakfast."  
"That never usually makes any difference with you," Gojyo blinked and seemed to come out of his torpor, half heartedly poking at the pot with his wooden spoon.  
"Really, I'm fine, I won't be long anyway," the tone was visibly trying to close the conversation as soon as possible.  
"Wait, where are you going?" Gojyo seemed to have only suddenly realised that he should ask.  
"Just...the usual," I heard the rustling of fabric, wondered if he was fidgeting or shrugging and why, "I'm up this end of town after all."  
"Oh," Gojyo inexplicably seemed to understand this allusion, "well, it's still a little far isn't it..."  
"It's only thirty minutes walk," the voice said back.  
"Yeah but it was raining earlier and..." Gojyo tried again but was instantly derailed.  
"I'll take an umbrella then."

For some reason I hadn't been able to ignore their interaction and leave the room. My hand had stalled on its original journey towards the door, just on hearing his voice. Pathetic.

"Drive him Gojyo," I found myself saying, enjoying the startled gasp that emanated from beyond that open doorway, "I'll make something edible for lunch."

Gojyo looked at me like I had grown an extra head. Then, slowly but unsurely, Goku's face appeared at the door and looked around until he found me. He stared for another moment, seemingly shy, before grinning like a fool and throwing all preconceptions out of the window.

"You're feeling better," he said through his smile, more of a statement than a question.  
"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged back, trying to compose myself, before realising that it didn't really hurt to move as much as it had earlier on.

He too looked a little better now. His eyes weren't holding that hollow essence deep within them. Either he was just very good at hiding it or he had cheered the fuck up. I hoped, damningly, it was the latter.

"Alright, well, I'll drive you monkey but we are _not _stopping for food so grab something for the journey okay?" Gojyo sighed as if he was giving in to something he really just didn't get.  
"Okay," golden eyes darted around the countertop avidly before he stepped inside to quickly snatch two apples from a shining bowl on the table, "I'm ready when you are...oh wait! Just let me get something first!"

With that he turned and ran down back into the hall. The sound of him rummaging in the study was all that could be heard now. I realised that the sound of boiling water was strangely absent and tuned back to see Gojyo turning off the heat on the stove. The pan was sitting idly on the drainer, steaming away to itself dejectedly. I caught his eye as he turned to lean against the counter. He hesitated, momentarily, and then held my stare questioningly. Then, something occurred to me. Gojyo had been acting familiar with Goku since the day he got here. Not that Gojyo wasn't generally easy going by nature, but there was something else to it. The penny slowly began to drop.

"You know him from before, don't you?" I asked bluntly.

Gojyo didn't even flinch, obviously quite used to my unique conversational skills by now. He simply meandered over to the L-shaped wooden kitchen counter and picked up his cigarettes, stuffing them into his jeans pocket.

"Well, you catch on quick for someone who doesn't give a shit," there was, surprisingly, venom hiding in his tone as he regarded me out of the corner of his eye, before his gaze focused back on the hallway; there was a tight pause, and then, "I knew his dad."

_Knew_. I swallowed a little, listening to the sounds of frustration coming from the study, further banging and sounds of destruction, and tried to suppress the strange urge in me to apologise. I found my gaze looking to the window to my right, the dull light of sun radiating through thin clouds. There was no point, Gojyo wouldn't accept it anyway, there was no need to make him think I'm any bigger an asshole than he already does, right? Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?

"Sorry," it sounded wrong coming from my lips, choking a little in my throat, and in my mind all I could think was...

-_When did it become so hard for me to be human?_-

"Hell," the surprise was enough to make me look to him again, taking in his wide eyes and, thankfully, smirking grin; the hate that had seeped into his features was gone, "damn..._damn_! And I didn't even get it on tape, shit, _no one's_ gonna believe you just apologised to me! Aw hell..."  
"Oh shut the hell up asshole," I growled back, falling into the routine with relief, "I'll write it on your tomb stone if it'll make you feel better."  
"Nah, think I'll pass on that thanks," Gojyo was shaking his head, the look on his face saying that he really didn't want any more surprises today or he'd be having his head checked; once more he looked to the hall, "come on you ape, hurry the hell up or I'm gonna leave without you!"  
"Just a minute, ah! Wait for me, I just gotta..." sounds of more rummaging and the muffled voice trailed off.

The afternoon light trailed through the kitchen, glinting off the stainless steel and lacquered wood. Gojyo's shoulders were relaxed, his pose amiable. Maybe I shouldn't ask, I had thought then, but of course I never listen to the cautious side of my nature. When Gojyo had said he _knew_ Goku's father, I knew what he meant by the tone. So if Goku's father was dead...the sudden inescapable need to know welled up inside me and I couldn't stop the words coming out of my mouth.

"Wait," Gojyo looked up at me with one eyebrow quirked when I stopped, "his mother?"

And just as I had known what he meant from his tone, Gojyo understood me without having to ask what the hell I was talking about. A dark look drained down over his features, he sniffed unconcernedly and seemed to fidget, everything I wasn't used to seeing Gojyo doing. Then he shrugged and fixed me with a stare. Shook his head.

"Gone," he said, "they're both gone."

Then suddenly there were running feet and his smiling face appeared at the door again, something clutched in his hands. A small ornate jar with a cork fixed firmly in place, petite, neat calligraphy sliding along its sides. It was the saddest juxtaposition I had ever seen in my life.

"Alright, found it, I'm ready," he said, eyes bright

I couldn't take my eyes off of him. How could he..? I didn't understand, I...

"Okay squirt," Gojyo said, reaching out a hand to ruffle Goku's hair affectionately as he walked past him, ignoring the squawk of indignation he let out, "let's get going."

How could he be so cheerful? Was that where the sadness I had sensed stemmed from? The forcing a smile on every day to cover up the fact that you were broken inside?

"Don't call me squirt! I'm almost eighteen you know!" Goku said, glaring at the disappearing red heads back.

It was only as I heard the front door opening that I forced my feet to move. I caught hold of the wood and spun myself around the still open doorway, looking into two pairs of surprised eyes that were staring at me from the end of the hallway. The light poured in over them like some sort of beacon. Goku's mouth was open as if he'd been ready to call something out.

"Wait, just wait a minute," I said tersely, "I'll come with you."

AN: Hmm, this came out too short, I had intended to tag another scene on the end but it got a little complicated in my head (not hard, honestly) and so I think I'll leave that for the next chapter. Okay, hope you enjoyed it! Please review!

Maiko


	5. Grey Sky, Wet Earth

Disclaimer: Saiyuki is not mine. This is done simply for pleasure.

Chapter 5

Grey Sky, Wet Earth

Just like the inevitability of the rain falling and swelling the lush greenery of the trees and the grass, I travelled without purpose, without focus, simply letting myself be, letting the journey fill me up from the inside. The mess of dirt and puddles and trees and ferns rushed past as I stared through the water spotted glass. The slight rock and sway of the car, as Gojyo drove more carefully than usual, caused my vision to swim with the doubling of the movement. There was no noise save for the steady thump-whine-thump of the windscreen wipers, rocking melodiously with the bumps in the road.

I closed my eyes when we broke free of the trees. It wasn't really raining anyway, just drizzling slightly, the clouds holding that fierce glare detailing their fragility. The sun was trying to burn through the grey shroud and I thought I could feel the warmth of it in the light, through the glass, even though I knew it wasn't there.

I hadn't even asked where we were going, just joined them, forcing them to wait while I grabbed my coat and stumbled into a new pair of unfamiliar shoes. Hakkai had bought them for me when I moved in, more as an encouragement I think than a practical gesture. They still felt strange now, even after pulling my feet into them and finding them oddly comfortable. I wasn't used to having my feet enclosed, it felt constricting. This atmosphere in the car should feel like that too, shouldn't it? But it didn't.

Occasionally I caught glimpses of his young face in the wing mirror, eyes dreamy as he too watched the outside world speed by. Was he thinking of his destination perhaps? Or was it more about the jar clutched reverently in his hands? Who was it for, mother or father? I had wanted to ask Gojyo, Kami knows I would never ask the child something like that, but my conscience had warned me off the idea. Better to stay on speaking terms with the man in charge of the car.

When we reached the gates of the cemetery, I couldn't help but feel nauseous. The name burned against my conscience. It had to be here, didn't it? Goku's parents had to be buried here. The thought sounded false, a bi-product of my own guilt and desperation. If I was here, I had to visit his grave, there was no way to escape it. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the car came to a gentle stop.

The cemetery was practically deserted. There was one woman with a young girl, presumably daughter, standing near the entrance by one of the well kept gravestones. The girl was dressed in a sky blue smock, holding her mother's hand as she placed an offering on the polished stone. No one else could be seen. I felt my hands clenching. Suddenly, the need to see his grave became almost violent.

"I'll meet you back here," I said without preamble, walking away before either could object.

I didn't look back to see their expressions, instead listening to the sound of their footsteps on the wet ground, heading in the opposite direction. I put my hands in my pockets and tried to ignore the slight chill that had swept over now that the sun had become once more obscured behind the clouds. My own feet moved on autopilot, despite having been here only once before. I had forced myself to come, as if it were a duty to be performed, and that thought alone made me feel sick with guilt. I should have come again, after I performed the funeral. I had never visited. I wondered belatedly, as I slowed to a halt in front of the grave, who else had come in my absence? Had anyone? I had always forced myself to believe that someone had, someone _must_ have. Yet when I looked up I found the grave stone bare of gifts and slightly weathered. I wasn't sure if the anger I felt was directed more at myself or the others who I knew should have been here when I couldn't bring myself to be. Perhaps it was both.

"I would say sorry for being late," I said, my light tone surprising me, "but you wouldn't believe it anyway, right Shuuei?"

* * *

"Where is he going?" Goku had asked only after he was sure Sanzo was out of sight.

I shrugged, even though I knew fine well where he was headed, and continued to walk with the boy towards his parents twin headstones. The sky was dull, grey in mourning. It seemed fitting, yet I couldn't help thinking that this would be easier somehow if the sun was shining. Then I realised that I wasn't thinking about the kid anymore and chastised myself; I was here for him, not the idiot monk.

Hakkai had taken Goku to see his parents last time he'd asked. He'd told me about it afterwards, without looking me in the eye, casually slipping it into conversation before swiftly moving on. I didn't dwell on it. In all honesty I hadn't thought that seeing their graves would affect me that badly. It probably wouldn't have either, if Goku hadn't been so indomitable in his cheerful nature. He placed the bottle in between the gravestones, settling it neatly before he began to talk. He didn't even seem to mind that I was standing right next to him. He talked of everything and nothing, from school to the drive here, from Hakkai's lessons to his aikido lessons, from me teasing him yesterday to Sanzo...well, actually there was no main point in that part of the one sided conversation. He just talked about Sanzo. All the while I just stared straight ahead, trying to comprehend the difference between what Goku saw and what I saw.

Son Hikaru, Son Mikoto. Beloved father, beloved mother. All I could see was the stone. I'd always kept my memories of them alive separate from their death, in case it infected them somehow. When Goku talked to them, I thought, does he see them? Does he see Hikaru's dark brown eyes smiling at him? Does he see Mikoto flick her long black hair behind her ear in annoyance? What does he see? Does he see anything at all?

Do I? When Sanzo had asked, I had said I knew Goku's father. In truth I had known his mother too, but only in passing, through Hikaru. I'd met her three times. I found it amazing that, standing here, I could recall each of the meetings down to the finest detail. I shivered.

"Hey, Gojyo?" his voice startled me and I turned to him too quickly, "are you even listening to me?"  
"Uh," I said eloquently, "yeah. What?"  
"That makes sense," Goku said dryly, his eyes rolling; for a moment it felt as if there were no grief at all in him, except for those who knew where to look, "listen, do you know where Sanzo is?"

That threw me, but only on the surface. Deep down, I knew the kid was becoming attached to Sanzo, but I wasn't sure what to make of it. Replacement father perhaps? The idea seemed like a bad joke, but then who was I to question something that seemed to make Goku happy? Still, he hadn't seemed all that happy when I had seen him in the kitchen with Sanzo that morning.

"Why?" I finally asked, not sure exactly which question I was hoping would be answered.  
"Would you just tell me, baka?" he groused, lowering his head to look at the ground.  
"Tch, fine, maybe you'll cheer him up, miracles do happen," I said.

I tried to figure out what was going on. It was like someone had put blinkers on me. I could see what was happening right before me, but I couldn't see the bigger picture at all. I told Goku where to go and watched, perplexed, as he picked up the jar from between the graves, muttered a quick apology to each headstone and sped off.

Maybe it was the age gap, I thought desperately. I really hoped I wasn't that out of touch. I decided to try Goku's approach, and surprisingly I didn't feel as stupid as I'd thought I would when I spoke out loud.

"Hikaru, Mikoto, if you're watching," I said, superstitiously keeping my eyes averted from the graves, "that boy of yours...he's okay. He's doing okay. I'll keep an eye on him for you."

* * *

"Who are you visiting?"

I had the satisfaction of seeing him jump before he turned to look at me. His cold eyes narrowed a little as I stepped up beside him, but I decided to ignore it. The jar was cold in my hands, making my fingers turn a little purple, but I didn't want to let go of it just yet. He turned to look back at the grave, his hands in his pockets.

"Was he a friend?" I asked.

Sanzo stayed silent. I felt like I was walking across thin ice with lead boots on. Well, I never have been accused of being subtle or tactful. I'm more of a steamroller when it comes to conversation, or that's what Hakkai says anyway. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it _really_ doesn't. I hoped this wouldn't be one of those times.

"I, uh..." I hesitated when his gaze shifted to me again; it was distant somehow, as if he weren't looking at me at all, "here."

I held out my hands and offered him the jar before he could change my mind. His eyes widened a fraction but he still did not speak. I swallowed, feeling suddenly foolish for even thinking this was remotely a good idea. I hadn't wanted to make him angry, that wasn't the plan. I was about to pull the jar back when his hands slid slowly out of his coat pockets. His fingers brushed mine when he took it. They were warm. He held it in front of him for a few minutes, as if he were holding something either dangerous or wondrous, before kneeling down to place it on the grave. I read the hard, chiselled name. Nakano Shuuei.

Sanzo straightened, hands returning to his pockets as he regarded the grave, now with its accoutrement. Then he closed his eyes and said something I couldn't catch. He opened his eyes again. I realised I was staring and blushed, looking back to the grave.

"Thank you," Sanzo said, finally.  
"It's okay," I shrugged, starting to feel the chill of the air seeping into my skin, "they said it was okay."

Sanzo blinked, looking right at me this time and I felt my blush deepen. Oh hell, what was I saying? I sounded like such an idiot!

"Who?" he asked, his voice sounded rough.  
"My, uh, my parents," I decided to just say it and get it over with, make it sound natural and maybe he wouldn't think I was crazy.  
"...Oh," he said at last, turning to look back at the jar again; there was an awkward silence before he spoke again, hesitantly, "he was a...close friend."

I felt conflicted. I was happy that he'd told me, but his tone was cold, unfeeling almost. I shivered and stuffed my hands into my pockets as well. The silence returned and I rolled the question over in my mind before asking it.

"How did he die?" I asked quietly.  
"He," the words seemed to stick in his throat, or maybe he just didn't know what to say, "...he was murdered, protecting me."

I knew I was staring now, eyes wide, but I couldn't help the reaction. Murdered. That was...that kind of death, it wasn't fair. I understood. My parents had been killed in a car crash, head on collision with a drunk driver. Everyone had died, my mother, my father, the driver of the other car. Somehow I was left feeling I had no one to blame. They had been stolen, that was how it had seemed to me, young as I was. I had always felt that way. I thought that maybe that was how Sanzo felt too, his friend had been stolen from him by someone else. Then something occurred to me.

"Did they catch him?" I asked and I could tell my stare was intense; he hesitated, shoulders tensing.  
"No," my stomach twisted unpleasantly, "it was...it's a long, complicated story, to tell the truth."  
"Oh," I said, feeling awkward, "well, if you want to talk about it...sorry, that sounds stupid. It's cold, I'm going back to the car. Take as long as you want, okay?"

I was panicking, I knew I was but I couldn't stop myself. I turned to go, but a hand seized my arm in a tight grip. I turned back involuntarily, forcing the surprise from my face. Sanzo's eyes twitched and he looked at me with a hint of anger, laced with desperation. I swallowed, suddenly frightened of him, before I realised that I was being irrational. There was warmth, spreading from his hand as it clutched a little tighter and then finally realeased. His gaze didn't change, but I managed to hold it, trying to convey some sort of defiance and comfort. Considering I didn't know what I was defying or comforting, this was risky.

"I'll walk back with you," he said suddenly.  
"Okay," I nodded, as if everything was entirely normal.

We walked back along the sodden path side by side. Somehow it was more reassuring than anything he could have said.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. I wished Hakkai were here. For some reason silences were always easier to deal with when he was present. His smile, however fake, managed to settle the mood into something bearable. Gojyo had eaten quickly, excusing himself before stacking his dishes neatly and picking up his cigarettes.

"I have to pick up Hakkai from that conference thing," he shrugged into his heavy leather jacket, flicking his hair out from under the collar, "he hates staying overnight just to leave in the morning."  
"You mean he's passing up a free breakfast?" Goku looked genuinely confused.  
"That really _is_ all you think about," Gojyo shook his head as he left, his expression resigned.

So that left us alone together. Just like this morning. Great.

"You feeling better now?" Goku finally broke the silence.  
"Yes," I replied, adding out of courtesy, "how is your arm?"  
"It's fin..." he stopped and swallowed when I glared at him, daring him to finish, "...it's still sore, but not as bad as it was. Thanks, you know, for bandaging it."

I didn't reply. I couldn't. There were too many thoughts running through my mind, about his parents, about my master, about Shuuei, about...

Wait a minute. What the hell am I doing? Too many thoughts running though my mind, who the hell am I trying to fool? Myself? When has there ever been a situation that I couldn't handle, something I couldn't comprehend? When did I let myself degrade into this pathetic state, where something as simple as coordinating my thoughts becomes an impossible task? Ridiculous, incomprehensible! I built my respect through my abilities, I built my abilities through training, I will not throw that away for nothing!

"They must have some grip, the person that did that to you," I said steadily; his eyes snapped to mine, his posture rigid and his gaze was surprised, as if seeing me for the first time, "those bruises looked painful."

He swallowed, still wide eyed, and let his chopsticks clatter to the tabletop. His gaze wavered, tensed, then he looked away hurriedly, his eyes closed. His breathing was shallow, rapid and from the tensing of the muscles in his arms I could tell that his hands were balled into tight fists. I watched him, trying for an air of dispassion. I knew that my face was a mask, unsympathetic, the one I had been able to master far too easily, something of a natural talent Shuuei had always teased.

"It's not what you think..." he began, but I quickly cut him off.  
"Are you ready to tell me the truth?" my tone was stern.

He swallowed, face falling. He stared at the centre of the table, blinking.

"It...," he swallowed again, as if bracing himself, eyes narrowing, "it's none of your business!"

His chair tumbled to the floor, banging loudly in the silence as he launched himself back from the table. His knee caught the table top, spilling rice and soup over the polished wood in rivers. His eyes were screwed shut, blindly he ran from the room, bumping against the doorway as he fled before slamming the study doors together with a final snap.

Silence again. I sat, in shock, staring at the migration of the soup across the slightly warped wood. I looked down as it reached the edge of the table, not moving as it began to drip, drip, drip off the edge onto my wrist. My shirt had ridden up, and the soup was slowly soaking into the bandage covering my wrist, disappearing up my forearm.

You're not the same, I told myself harshly, that's why you don't understand him, you're not the same.

AN: Damn that took long enough. Sorry for the delay but I've just been accepted to Uni for next year so I'm studying my ass off right now, no time to write, seriously. I feel bad though, I'm really fond of these stories and I know that they need finished, so I'm going to keep slowly working on them.

Okay, hope this was alright, please review and let me know what you think!

Maiko


	6. Scarred Sky

**Chapter 6**

**Scarred Sky**

"What are you doing?"  
"I think it's obvious," I said back, clicking the latches closed on my suitcase.  
"Well," his tone was taken aback, "perhaps a better question would be why?"

Hakkai and Gojyo had returned twenty minutes after Goku's unprecedented outburst and subsequent departure. It was dark outside. I had told Goku he should wait, Gojyo would drive him home. No, he said as he tied his shoes, I can get home by myself. Hakkai will be mad with you, I said back. I don't care, was all he would say in response. He wouldn't look at me, purposefully hadn't, since his flight from the dinner table.

I had waited until his hand was on the handle, ready to leave. You don't have to go home, I said. That made him hesitate, hand hovering over his escape. He still didn't look at me. I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do, he replied. His tone made him sound so much older that he was. Goku left with his bag over his shoulder, having not once looked at me; I stood and watched him go. My words from moments before came back to haunt me.

_You're not the same_

But we were, in many ways. Perhaps it was because of our similarity that I found it hard to see how similar we were. Doesn't make sense? Then think about it like this: I refuse to admit certain things about my character, things that I could identify with in Goku and despise or even fear. His gregariousness, his quick temper, his ability to mask his true feelings, his pain, his cowardice and his confusion. These were the reasons that Hakkai was never going to learn of.

"I need to go back to the temple," I stated, "I've made up my mind. I'll leave tomorrow morning."

I could hear Gojyo calling for Goku in the kitchen, his voice moving to the study, then down the hall. I looked over my shoulder and watched Hakkai lean backwards through the door frame and frown as he too looked for Goku. My room was dimly lit, and the light from the kitchen filtered down the corridor. It was harsh as it reflected off Hakkai's glasses. I picked up the suitcase and placed it at the bottom of the futon.

"He's not here," I said as Hakkai opened his mouth to ask.  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Gojyo appeared suddenly, pushed his way past Hakkai and into the conversation, "do you know how late it is? You just let him leave!?"  
"I'm not his mother, and neither are you," I said coldly, "he's nearly eighteen, he can do what he wants."

It was a horrible thing to say but I was in the mood for hurting someone and I had always been oh so very good at it. Gojyo had set himself up, but it didn't stop the hurt frown marring his face, or the more subtle narrowing of Hakkai's eyes. I ground my teeth together and forced myself to stay calm. I may be good at pissing people off but I had also recently acquired a remedy to these situations that I create. I looked away from their faces, so that I didn't have to see their reactions.

"Sorry," I ground out, still finding it hard to make apologies sound sincere, "that was uncalled for."

Silence. I finally looked to them, curious. Gojyo was shaking his head in bewilderment and Hakkai was blinking. Then he smiled, a _genuine_ smile, and cocked his head.

"Goku really is having a good influence on you," he said cryptically.  
"I don't think I care to know what you mean," I bit out, "Get out, I'm going to sleep. There's a car coming to pick me up at nine."

* * *

I had forgotten just how cumbersome formal robes were until I was forced to wrap myself in them that morning. The only saving grace, I thought as I looked at myself in the mirror, was that their bulk hid the damage that I had inflicted upon my body through lack of appetite, binge drinking and smoking. They managed to, somehow, make me look respectable. Well, who says there aren't still miracles in the world?

The car arrived at nine thirty and the driver had the good grace to look chastised by my glare. He all but hopped out of his seat to take my bags, murmuring apologies that I mostly couldn't make sense of. I felt like telling him to shut the hell up (my head was still pounding from a sleepless night and the tail end effects of my sickness) but Hakkai's subtle yet demanding shoe pressing down on my sandaled foot closed my mouth as soon as it had opened. I settled for watching the drivers every move simply to disconcert him.

"Have you got your medicine with you?" Hakkai asked promptly as the driver loaded my luggage and the sun crept lazily from behind the clouds.  
"Yes mother," I ground out, turning my glare onto my invulnerable friend.  
"Good, and I hope you're wearing warm clothes underneath those formidable robes of yours," Hakkai carried on, his smile turning wicked as he continued to enjoy himself at my expense.  
"Why, if I'm not will you take them off and inspect me?" two could play at that game.  
"Only if you're a good boy," Hakkai's said, closing his eyes to broaden the smile.  
"Because...Every Good Boy Deserves Foreplay?" I suggested, feeling around under my robes for the pocket holding my cigarettes.  
"Ah, that was a particularly lewd one Sanzo," Hakkai said, as a teacher praises a student, "although I'm pretty sure Rector Shinohara would never let me teach it in music class."  
"Oh well, his loss," I shrugged, tugging a cigarette from the packet once I'd located it and lighting up.

It was then that I felt the eyes, boring into my skull. I turned nonchalantly to stare at the driver. He stared back, mouth agape, blinking, hands holding the edge of the wide open car boot. I took a long drag and let it stream lazily from my nostrils. He'd obviously never seen a smoking, cussing, obscene priest before. Seriously, we're not as rare as we seem.

"Like what you see?" I asked in my best deadpan; I've never seen someone blush so completely, I swear his hair was tinged pink, so I took pity on him and grunted out, "Get the car loaded moron, it's bad enough that you were late, I don't need it to be accompanied by your idiotic gaping."

That seemed to break him out of his stupor. He slammed the boot shut and hurried back to the driver's seat where he sat with his hands on the wheel and eyes staring decisively forward. I snorted and continued to enjoy my cigarette while I could.

"Do you think that they really want you back at the temple?" Hakkai asked, sounding almost sincere.  
"Hey, don't look at me, they're the ones who've been on my back for the last month, begging me to return," I shrugged.  
"Maybe they've forgot exactly how bad your personality is," Hakkai sighed, "either that or they really are desperate."  
"Gee," I said inhaling the last half of my cigarette in one breath, dropping the butt to the ground, "thanks."

The silence became a little awkward. I wasn't sure exactly what I was supposed to say; 'About letting me freeload off you for the last four months, 'kay thanks bye?' Maybe too informal. My headache slowly intensified as I began to tense up. Of course I knew what I _wanted_ to ask. The unfinished business that I was leaving behind was the main reason for last night's sleeplessness. I scratched the back of my neck and swallowed.

"So," I said, "the brat will be back here today?"  
"You tell me," Hakkai said, lifting his chin to look at the clouds.  
"How should I know what's flitting through that hollow skull of his?" I snapped back, "You're his teacher, I hardly know the kid."  
"I beg to differ," Hakkai said, his tone distant as he removed his glasses, wiping them, eyes never wavering from the sky, "I think, somehow, you've come to know him better than I ever have and I've been teaching him on and off for the last six years of his life."

I didn't like where this conversation was heading. This wasn't the direction I'd intended it to go in. I didn't want a psychological analysis of my relationship, if you could even call it that, with a seventeen year old boy who had just as many issues as I did. The most we had in common, other than our problems, was that neither of us wanted to face up to our demons or move on. We were stuck, like butterflies on pins, still holding the semblance of something wild, free and beautiful, but ultimately doomed by fate.

The wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves and leaving behind the feeling of being taunted by its freedom. I chanced a look at the sky, hoping to see what Hakkai saw, something there that would explain all of _this_...this existence and its trials. Cerulean scraped with white. The sun hurt my eyes, blinding and barely warm. I closed my eyes. The breeze brushed over my face, touching and feeling, curious fingers. It moved on. I opened my eyes and found the sky unchanged.

"If he does come back," I said softly, fishing a scrap of paper from my jeans pocket, sliding it through a fold in my robes and handing it to Hakkai, "give him this and tell him if he doesn't come and visit me he better watch his goddamn back because I know where he lives."

Hakkai blinked at me, then at the paper now clutched between his fingers, then back to me. He nodded, twice, hesitated, then once more. He folded the scrap of paper reverently and placed it into his coat pocket, zipping it afterwards.

"I think even without your address Sanzo, that Goku's sentiment would be much like your own," Hakkai said with a smile.

I shivered. The sun disappeared behind the clouds.

"I'm going now," I said, and the voice didn't sound like my own, I didn't recognise it.

Did I know what I was leaving behind here? I knew, but didn't comprehend the connotations, the complications, the consequences of this action. Anything could happen from here on in, I told myself; but that was just a false freedom that I was forcing myself to believe. Once I closed the door, sat in that car and let it drive me away from here, I was surely leaving behind the only freedom I had found since I had let my life fall apart around me.

Fate or freedom?

Decide.

It was as I moved towards the car door, intent on leaving as soon as possible, that I found myself pulled into a tight embrace. I'm not sure which of us was more surprised by it, Hakkai or myself. He mumbled something about how he would miss me into my hair before giving me one last squeeze, telling me to behave myself and walking back up the winding path towards his house. I watched him go with a mix of relief and regret.

Who exactly was I doing this for?

"Step on it will you, we're already late," I said to the driver as I opened the door and sat awkwardly on the car seat.

The trees waved goodbye as the car reversed, slowly slipping from view.

**AN:** Sorry for the wait again, and I know it's rather short. I have the next chapter planned out though so it shouldn't take quite as long! Actually I've had the idea for the next chapter in my head for quite a while now, and I've been looking forward to writing it! Okay, now for reviews:

To Azamiko – Yes I know, that was my evil plan, I think you should opt for kicking Sanzo though (just because he's such a brat).

To Foulodron – Thanks! Yeah, it's a pain that I have to wait until next year before I go to uni though (ugh). I'm glad you're enjoying it, I'm really fond of this story, and I didn't mean it to be quite this long but it's suddenly sprouted arms and legs! Hopefully it won't take too much long to start explaining things...hmm I think I had a tendency to not explain things properly.

To Naruta 13 – Yes my Hakkai really is as scary as the one in the manga so beware! And yes Sanzo is dense unfortunately, but something seems to be sinking in finally!

To Kitesvara – Thanks, I'm glad that you like it! Hopefully it won't be too long until I update next time.

Okay, please review and let me know what you think!

Maiko


	7. The Night Before the House Came Down

**Chapter 7**

**The Night Before the House Came Down**

The house was dark and silent. I stood outside, staring at the level, pristine bricks that made up the south facing wall, my window nothing but a dark hole nestled in it. The stark white light of the street lamps painted the garden with dead light; it seemed hollow somehow, and the shadows too dark. I swallowed, feeling the wind catch my face and turn my cheeks cold. My eyes itched. I shivered as the wind found its way under my jumper and I pulled down on the hem, holding it close to my body for warmth. I felt sick. Had I maybe caught that fever? No, I knew that wasn't the reason, not really.

_-I don't want to see you back here today-_ uncle had said.

Which meant he'd been drinking, or maybe worse. Whenever he told me not to come back I always arranged to stay somewhere else, with a friend or even paying for a bed and breakfast for the night, anything. Anything but go back there and have him take it out on me for not listening, for not obeying, for having survived so that he had to take care of me, for being alive when my father, his beloved brother, was dead. Apparently I was a sorry excuse for a replacement. I sniffed. The wind was turning cold, making my nose run. I stood on the other side of the pristine hedge, staring at the prison that had held me for far too long.

Yet when a ray of hope appeared, I had fled. Why had I run from Sanzo? From the one person who'd actually taken notice, offered me his help? I had been waiting for so long, for the day I turned eighteen and was legally bound to no-one but myself. Yet I still wasn't sure what I was going to do once this happened. There weren't really many options left to me. If I left home and stayed at school I wouldn't have enough money to support myself. I didn't want to rely on his money, even_ if_ my Uncle would have given it freely which I doubted, and a part time job would never offer enough money to afford the cheapest of flats in this area. If I left school and got a job, what the hell were my prospects? With Hakkai-san's help I would hopefully scrape passes in my exams, but my marks won't be enough to get a good job, something I would enjoy doing, something I _wanted_ to do. I had no other family to stay with, my friends all lived with their families, no-one my age had their own place...and staying at home, _this_ house, was not an option.

-_You don't have to go home_,- Sanzo had said.

I felt the tears dripping onto my hand before I realised I was crying. I didn't make a sound as my head fell limply against my chest, mouth contorted with pain, slowly opening in a silent scream, huffing out breath with every sob. I clutched at my chest, twisting the fabric in my fingers until it burned. I fell heavily to my knees and let out a short cry, heaving in breath and curling over, not stopping until my forehead touched the ground. I had never felt this way before, never like this, never as if there was no way out. I was an optimist, always, if I wasn't I never would have survived this long. So why? Why did it hurt so much when I thought about running from that kitchen, leaving him standing in the doorway, telling me I didn't have to go home, I could stay, that he could help me? Why did I feel like I'd just lost something precious?

I lay there, shivering and crying, I don't know how long. When I finally composed myself enough to sit up I was bitterly cold and my feet had gone numb. I pushed myself up, stumbling as the blood rushed back into my legs, falling back to the pavement with my back against the hedge. The dry leaves crackled against my hair, twigs snapping. I watched my breath misting in the white street light.

It was because I had thrown it away, wasn't it, his offer? That's why this ache in my chest wouldn't go away, why it grew and grew until I felt hollow inside, empty. It was because this was all my fault, my own doing. I had dug my own grave and just as I was about to throw myself in someone had offered me their hand; and I had ignored it.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, hardly discernable through the dry choke, all that was left of my voice, "I'm sorry, I take it back. I'm sorry..."

I didn't even remember falling asleep. Yet I remembered waking up.

"Hey, honey, are you alright?"

It was early, the sky blue but the street still quiet, and a kind face stared down at me. The lady watched me a little warily, but she still smiled as I opened my eyes fully. She looked about fifty, greying hair and laughter lines that made her seem warm and affectionate. I blinked, disorientated, and then hurried to stand up.

"I...I'm fine," I croaked, instantly embarrassed as I realised I had been caught sleeping on the street; I could feel my eyes were swollen from crying and I must look awful, "thanks."  
"Do you live around here?" she asked, shifting her shopping bag in her hand, "Do you need me to get you home?"  
"No! Oh no, I'm alright, really, I just..." I didn't know what to say, I've never been very good at lying, so I stopped short, "thank you though, I mean, thanks."  
"Alright," she looked a little sceptical but gave me one last smile, "look after yourself. Nice looking boy like you shouldn't be sleeping outside, it's dangerous."  
"I-I will," I nodded, bowing as she left, ignoring the raging blush on my cheeks.

Oh god, what is wrong with me? I stood in the clear sunlight, shivering, watching the old lady walk off down the road, never looking back. My feet ached and I swayed on the spot before forcing myself to walk. Walk towards that house. I could feel the tears threatening again as memories of the night before flooded my mind. I brought my hands up to rub at my arms, ignoring the chatter of my teeth and the stinging in my eyes. That house. Where am I supposed to go? I have to leave, I have to _get out_...I...

The door opened before my hand reached the door handle. He stood there, staring at me dispassionately, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He smelled of alcohol and smoke. I couldn't control my shivering, I was cold, I was scared and I wanted to go home. I wanted a home.

"Where have you been?" he asked, deep voice resonating against my nerves.  
"You...you told me to..." I started, finding it hard to speak even though I wasn't sure why.  
"Answer the question," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I swallowed and shook my head. The world seemed to spin and I wasn't sure if I was falling or if it was the world that was moving all around me. I felt sick and cold and hot all at once, and then a steel grip wrapped around my wrist and I was shaken once, twice, hard.

"Answer me you little shit," he hissed, blowing smoke into my eyes as he spoke, making me cough, "are you listening to me?"  
"Let me go!" I sobbed, not even sure when the tears had returned, only sure of the fact that I needed to get away from here, "please, let me go!"

"Keep your voice down and get the fuck inside this house, right now," he growled, pulling at my arm; I felt distanced, as if this was all happening to someone else and I was merely an observer.

I felt the vomit fill my throat and then watched in absent fascination as it splattered all over the concrete step at my feet, dancing up to land on his trousers. He recoiled instinctively but, somehow, didn't release my wrist. I managed to look up, blearily, to his face, distorted with rage. His free hand raised up, also as if on instinct, and the slap was loud as he backhanded me violently. My head snapped to the right and I felt the pain blossom against my cheek and jaw, causing fresh tears to form. I hiccoughed against the sob rising in my throat, trying feebly to pull away. My mouth was filled with the disgusting bitter taste of sick mixed with blood. Somewhere nearby I heard a car door slam. I needed help, I needed someone to help me. Please, please, don't leave me here like this. My mind raced as he pulled me limply towards the house, but my traitorous feet followed without question.

"Goku," I thought I must be dreaming.

Time slowed down. I looked up over my left shoulder, over the arm that was still raised in _his_ grip, and took in the sight of him. I had only ever seen monks in full dress in picture books we had read in primary school, and none had ever looked so good as Sanzo did, standing regally, menacingly on the grass in the morning sunlight. His eyes were nothing but violet slits, focused on Uncle even though he addressed me. I felt my head swim again and tried to stay focused.

"He's busy at the moment," _He_ said, his voice sounding distorted to my buzzing ears, "come back later."  
"Hakkai sent me to pick you up," Sanzo said, ignoring him completely.

I can get away, my mind screamed desperately, tears swimming in my eyes, blurring my vision. I felt sick to my stomach with relief. Again I tried to pull away from his grip but he was too strong and I felt so _weak_...

"Come on brat," Sanzo said impatiently, eyes glinting, lifting a cigarette to his mouth while he fished for a lighter in his dazzling cream robes, "the meter is running and it'll be your ass if I have to fork out any more than 3000 yen."

"Look," Uncle finally spoke up again, agitated, I could feel it vibrating through his clenched fingers, "I don't know who you are or what you are doing here, but Goku is not going anywhere today. Please leave."

I was yanked into the house so suddenly that I tripped, falling to the kitchen floor. He didn't let go of my wrist and the jolt pulled at my shoulder painfully. I let out a cry, in pain or desperation I'm not sure. The door closed behind me and I felt my throat tighten, panic rising like a scream in my throat, ready to erupt. I was hauled to my feet, but only managed two steps before a huge crash sounded behind me. I fell to the floor, limp and disorientated, and look up in bemusement as Sanzo walked through the remains of our kitchen doorway. Calm and collected as always, he simply stepped over the splintered wood, cigarette poking artfully from between his long, ivory fingers. My Uncle moved into my line of vision, spewing unintelligible words, fist raised, but was easily dealt with. A flick of the wrist and a subtle step to the right and he was lying prostrate on the floor.

"Don't get up," Sanzo ordered him, deadpan, as he reached down to pull me up.

I'll admit that passing out wasn't the most romantic thing to do, but I can't say that I did it intentionally. Everything went dark. So cliché.

* * *

"Wh-what happened!?"

It was rare to see Hakkai flustered, but I have to admit that the situation warranted a little bit of hysteria. I had returned to Hakkai's remote house because, for one, I didn't really know what the temple would think if I turned up with a bruised and unconscious boy in my arms and, two, because I was so angry that I needed to be somewhere calming, or at least somewhere with people who _could_ calm me down.

"Let me put him down first," I said tightly, pushing past Hakkai and heading for the couch in the living room, "he's heavy and I'm tired."

I pushed into the kitchen, Hakkai hovering around my back, a ball of nervous energy, and found Gojyo sitting at the kitchen table with the morning paper. His eyes were doing a rather good impression of dinner plates and the newspaper fluttered to the floor in sheets from his limp fingers. He opened his mouth to speak but I beat him to it.

"Help me," I demanded and, oddly enough, he complied.

We lowered Goku onto the couch and Hakkai quickly set about checking him over. Gojyo and I stood back and watch silently. No one spoke. After a long, tense two minutes Hakkai sighed, stood up and headed for the medicine box in the cupboard.

"Alright," Hakkai's tone of barely controlled anger sounded oddly like my own, "explain."

I could feel Gojyo's eyes burning into my back and opted for sitting down in the chair opposite Goku's resting form. The adrenaline was slowly draining from my limbs and I raised a shaking hand and ran my fingers through my hair.

"Your hand," Gojyo said quietly, "Sanzo you're bleeding."

I brought my hand to my lap and examined it closely. There was a large splinter of wood imbedded in one knuckle and a thin trail of blood leading from it. I hadn't even felt the pain.

"Just a door," I said, realising how insane it sounded without explanation.

"A door?" Hakkai said incredulously, coming back into view with a plethora of bandages, painkillers and medicines, "Sanzo, I mean it, tell me what happened!"

"It's all my fault," I whispered out, feeling the guilt that had been slamming against my ribs ever since I had yelled at the taxi driver to stop, ever since I had seen that fucking bastard lay a hand on Goku, ever since I had let him go and not stopped him leaving the night before, "kami, it's all my fault."

I didn't realise I was crying. Gojyo just stared at me and Hakkai simply waited for the explanation he'd demanded with practiced patience while attending to Goku's wounds.

"The burn on his arm," I said finally as Hakkai discovered my well wrapped bandage on Goku's arm, "I noticed it a couple of days ago. He talked it off, said he'd done it himself. But there were bruises, someone held him down. I told him I didn't believe him, he wouldn't give it up. Last night I...I confronted him and he ran. Ran straight back to it."  
"To what?" Hakkai asked, not looking at me, voice harsh.  
"Whoever it is he's living with," I said, unable to keep the rage from my tone; was it that man or myself I loathed? Perhaps both, "I happened to drive past on the way to the temple. Saw him hurt Goku. I thought here would be safest."

Silence. I wasn't sure what kind: accusatory, contemplative, angry? I wiped at my face and hissed as the wood moved under my skin.

"And the door?" Gojyo finally asked as Hakkai laid a cold cloth against Goku's fever flushed forehead.

"He dragged Goku inside and shut the door in my face," I shrugged, pulling gingerly at the wood.

I think they both correctly surmised exactly what had happened to said door. The blood began to flow once I removed the splinter. I watched it dispassionately. Hakkai's fingers were warm as he gently took hold of my hand, wiping away the blood and cleaning it carefully, checking for more splinters.

"I'll make some tea," Gojyo said quietly.

The antiseptic stung but the pain gave me something to focus on. I watched Hakkai work, unable to focus on my own thoughts. The rage simmered somewhere beneath the surface, ready to return whenever I replayed that scene in my head, of that man's hand descending on Goku who didn't even move to defend himself. Hakkai covered the wound with gauze and wrapped my hand quickly in a white bandage. It matched my wrist. I looked up to find Hakkai watching me, his green eyes unreadable.

"I wanted to kill him," I told him flatly, watching for any emotion; none came, "I would have, if Goku hadn't been watching, I would have."

"I know," Hakkai said, nodding, his tone conveying just how much he understood, "I know."

**Author's note:** Hmm, I think Sanzo's turned even more sinister than he was already, but I still love him. Sorry this has taken so long, I'm trying my best to update all my fics at once and I'm not doing very well. I have lots of reading to do for English Language! And I have to socialise, god it takes up so much time! Okay, off I go to bed! Please review and let me know what you think. Oh and sorry again for the clichés in this chapter (and this story as a whole) I hope the darker element makes up for the obvious fluff.

Maiko


	8. Hydra's Teeth

**Chapter 8**

**Hydra's Teeth**

Things had turned serious so quickly that I don't think it really sank in until the police turned up at the door.

Well, perhaps I should backtrack from there, explain things in some semblance of chronological order. It's a little unfair to just plunge you into that situation I suppose.

"What now?" was the question that Gojyo had asked, once Hakkai had commandeered my bed for the unconscious Goku.

The silence that followed best conveyed the answer. I looked at him, trying for something severe, but ending up with nothing more than what I guessed was a rather lost look. He managed to look sympathetic and, amazingly, even patted my shoulder in some semblance of comfort. I think the shock of his actions was, ironically, what snapped me out of my stupor. He moved into the kitchen and moved things around for a while; I quickly made up my mind and stood up and walked over to the phone before I managed to talk myself out of it. Picking it up, I hesitated for five whole seconds before dialling. It rang twice before answered.

"What?" he answered harshly.  
"I have a deal for you," I said back, loathing myself as each syllable slipped past my lips.

I don't think anyone has ever had such undivided attention from him, except perhaps his little sister. He even managed to have himself transported to the house, in a large black Mercedes SLK no less, in under half an hour. I hadn't even thought that was physically possible, and perhaps it wasn't. However, this was the man who, when he snapped his fingers, I was sure that even the laws of physics sat up and took notice. Immaculate in a dark, dark blue expensive, tailor cut suit, he stepped from the car and somehow managed to not look out of place in Hakkai's rather modest garden. I wasn't sure whether he was simply so confident that it didn't matter, or his sheer audacity managed to mould the surroundings to him. Not that, I should have you know, he was such a bad guy. I just hated his father, and it kind of transferred.

"Kougaiji," I said as neutrally as I could.  
"Sanzo-san," he said politely, brushing his dark red hair out his eyes as slight a breeze dared blow it out of place, "I thought I'd better come in person and...are you wearing..?"  
"Yes, I am," I said tightly, curling my fingers into the rich fabric of my full ceremonial robes, trying to ignore the pain that flared in my bandaged hand at the movement.  
"...Right," he said, and for a moment he too seemed almost sympathetic; this was far too strange, "are you sure about this?"  
"Do you want me to change my mind, or do you want to hear my proposal before I decide this was all a big mistake and slash your tires?" I spat.  
"Fair enough," he said with a shrug and a small smile, seeming much more like the man I had known four years ago than the rather isolated and stoic businessman he had become, "can I come in?"  
"Sure," I said, turning and walking back into the house without a backwards glance.

Hakkai was too shocked to speak when he saw me entering with Kougaiji behind me. He just stood there, in the hallway, with a wet cloth in one hand, his eyes fluttering with confusion. Kougaiji bowed to him respectfully, before caving in and smiling, if only slightly, and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hakkai-san," he said, "it's good to see you. Yaone sends her regards."  
"Uh-huh," Hakkai seemed to mentally slap himself and was now looking at me suspiciously, "you too Kougaiji. What...exactly are you doing here?"  
"I asked him," I clarified while leading Kougaiji past Hakkai and into the living room.

Hakkai didn't have anything to say to that apparently, so I let Kougaiji into the living room so that he could confuse the crap out of Gojyo.

"What the hell..?" Gojyo muttered around the unlit cigarette sticking out of his mouth.  
"Nice to see you too Gojyo," Kougaiji smirked, sticking his hands casually in his pockets.  
"Yeah," Gojyo goggled back, just as speechless as Hakkai; he stared at me for a moment before simply slipping out the back door to smoke in silence in the garden.

It was amazing, I thought as I watched Kougaiji help himself to a seat on the sofa across from the one I had taken up residence in, just how much he had changed simply by walking through the door of this house. When I'd first seen him step out of the car moments ago, he had seemed that omnipotent being I had come to resent by association with that bastard Gyumaoh, but now, well, I couldn't have told the difference between now and when we'd once been acquaintances, if not friends. He was so much more casual, his face seemed friendly and open, his body language was relaxed. I started to wonder if I had been very, very wrong in my estimations of him changing over the years at all. Instead I began to wonder if the man I'd seen stepping from the car was only a mask he wore to protect himself from the cutthroat world he'd found himself working in. Did he metamorphose back into this friendly person every night when he went home? I cursed the fact that the reason I didn't know was simply because I'd alienated myself from him and his family. I'd been too hard on him it seemed. Either that or he was a very, very good actor.

"So," he said letting out a sigh, "you sounded pretty certain back there."  
"I am," I said tersely, not sure how to react to him now, "do I have to keep repeating myself? I'm going to sell you the temple and your father can do whatever the hell you want with the land. I'll take full responsibility, you won't need to worry about a thing...but I need a favour first."

He looked at me in silence for about thirty seconds, in which I grew steadily more and more uncomfortable. It was like being judged. Was I doing the right thing? I thought frantically as he continued to stall. Will father hate me forever for daring to do this ultimate betrayal? What he said blew the suspicions from my mind however, with simple confusion.

"You really don't watch the news," he said with a smirk, "do you?"  
"What the hell has watching the new got to do with this?" I shouted irrationally at him, "I'm trying to tell you about the most important decision I'm ever going to make and you're talking about the fucking news?!"  
"Yes I'm talking about the fucking news," he said back with a shake of his head, throwing his arm over the back of the couch, "the fucking news that three weeks ago my father was ploughed over by a hit and run as he was leaving the restaurant across the street from H.Q. and has been in a coma ever since. The fucking news that, in his stead, the vice president has been promoted to 'Acting Director' and has been making all the damn decisions. The fucking news that Yaone would have told you if you hadn't been a jackass and made her leave your presence in tears."  
"But you're the vice presi..." I stopped, the truth finally sinking in.  
"No shit," he said.

Okay.

Okay, it was hard to come up with a smartass comeback to that. So I decided gaping was, if not dignified, at least prudent. I closed my mouth as soon as the initial shock had worn off and opted for just staring at him instead. He sat through this with a look of satisfaction on his face that, eventually, turned to mild affection and he seemed to take pity on me.

"Yeah, okay, so you've been kind of out of touch lately," he said, looking through the sliding doors to the garden outside where Gojyo was still smoking quietly, "but it would have been nice if you'd included us a little. We were only trying to help."  
"I..." what was I supposed to say? "I'm sorry?"

He laughed at that one, both at the fact that I'd said it as a question and at the fact I'd said I'm sorry. If there was anyone who hated Gyumaoh more than me, it was his only son. After the things Gyumaoh had done to Kougaiji's mother, I couldn't really blame him.

"You're sorry that the old bastard is currently in a drooling, vegetative state that I'm sure he'll never recover from?" Kougaiji grinned at me slyly, "Yeah, sure, and I'm straight."  
"Oh shut up," I said darkly, "what was I supposed to say?"  
"Ding dong the witch is dead would have sufficed," he shrugged, "or yippee."  
"Yeah, well...wait, wait," I backtracked, "what the hell has this got to do with anything anyway? What about my..?"  
"Your offer?" he said with a shake of his head, "Sanzo, when have I ever wanted your money?"  
"Well...never," I said with a frown.  
"What about all the money I lent you when I was still in college that you needed to fly out to the funeral?" he asked.  
"Well no you didn't but..." I said, but he jumped in.  
"How about the loan? Have I ever asked you to return any of the loan that I secretly gave to you behind my father's back so that you could pay off the guys he'd hired to bulldoze the temple to the ground on that bullshit charge of the land being 'hazardous'?" he asked.  
"Uh, no..." I said, but he cut me off again.  
"Then what the hell makes you think that I would make you sell your home so that I would do you a favour?" he asked seriously, "Because in all honesty, it's kind of insulting."

I threw up my hands in disgust, at him for rubbing it in my face and for me for being such an inconsiderate jerk. I wasn't sure exactly how I got myself into these situations but I sure as hell hated getting myself out of them.

"Sorry," I ground out, although I was starting to make it sound more and more convincing.

I looked back to Kougaiji to find him staring at me in disbelief. He actually looked genuinely shocked. He blinked a few times and then reached up to loosen his tie. Then he laughed.

"I'm sorry," he said, still laughing, "I thought you just apologised to me..."  
"I did!" I said indignantly; why could no one believe I was capable of apologising?  
"Wow," he said, shaking his head, "what the hell have you been doing these past years that's made you so humble?"

That's when I remembered why I'd called him.

"Well," I said slowly, watching him suspiciously (I still inconsiderately thought this was all some big trap, because I'm hideously paranoid), "actually it's not something, it's someone."  
"Hey, I thought you monks weren't allowed to date?" he asked with a small teasing frown.  
"Not like that you pervert," I sighed, "he's just a kid."  
"'He' eh? Well, it takes all kinds..." he trailed off, rolling his eyes to the ceiling over dramatically.  
"Oh you can talk!" I spat back, "I bet the first thing you did after your father ended up in a coma was to have sex on his desk."

The fact that he started guiltily confirmed my suspicions, even if I'd only meant it as a joke.

"Oh hell, I was only kidding," I said wearily.  
"Well, uh, yeah," he said while blushing bright red, "oh shut up! Just get to the point already and ask your damn favour while I'm still in the mood to give it to you."

It's serious now, I thought giddily, I'm actually going to ask. What the hell drugs am I on?

"There's a young boy next door," I said, all humour gone from me as I thought about what had happened, "well, maybe not so young, he's nearly eighteen. Whatever, that's not relevant. It's his father that's relevant."

That had Kougaiji's attention and, from the way his eyes hardened just that little bit, I think he knew what I was going to say even before I said it. Kougaiji's father had done the same thing to him after all.

"He abuses him," I said tightly, "physically and mentally as far as I can tell. Earlier on I caught him at it. When I brought him back here he fell insensible and he's now very ill. The man, he isn't his real father, he's his uncle, but his father died when he was pretty young so...so he sees him like that. I need you to get me help gaining guardianship of him until he turns eighteen."

Kougaiji stared at me for a moment, then to the garden, then back to me. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck wearily.

"Things aren't always that simple," he said, "although I really wish that they were. You're not leaving anything out are you?"  
"What the hell would I be leaving out?" I asked in confusion.  
"Like, how you might have retaliated against the guy when you found him beating on his nephew?" he said, indicating to my bandaged hand.  
"Yeah, well," I said, looking away, "I broke his door but nothing else."  
"Good," he said, "I wouldn't want to have to hire a lawyer for you too."

That made me whip my head around and look at him again.

"Then you'll..?" I started.  
"What are old, estranged, supremely wealthy friends whose sisters would kill them if they didn't comply for?" he asked, "Besides, if you're telling the truth, and I trust you most out of anybody to do that, then it sounds like this kid needs help. If I can do that, then I will."

The sunshine outside seemed to get that little bit brighter. So when the police turned up at the door to retrieve Goku and ask me about exactly why I had seen fit to break down someone's door and kidnap their child...Kougaiji's presence helped immensely. Of course they recognised him, who the hell didn't in this city. His corporation was immense, they not only made everything and sold everything but had very big friends in very high places. Oh yeah, and the monk robes helped a lot too.

The guy wanted to press charges but, well, Kougaiji's lawyers saw to that pretty quickly. Had it swiftly reversed. I don't think the idiot even saw it coming when Kougaiji's immaculately dressed, smooth talking, expensive corporate lawyer slid the dossier across the table to his lawyer, saying that _we_ wanted to bring him up on charges of child abuse. Yeah, he kind of didn't have anything to say to that.

When I got home that night (it had taken a long time to clear everything up at the police station, but overall things had advanced far more quickly than I'd ever expected; that's what happens when you have money on your side) Kougaiji's parting words still rang in my ears.

"You know," he'd said as he drove me back to Hakkai's, "the charges won't stand unless you get the kid to talk."  
"I know," I'd said distractedly.  
"Hey, don't brush me off," he'd said seriously, "I mean it. If you want this kid to be, not only free of this asshole, but have somewhere to stay with someone to look after him, then you need him to testify against his uncle. If he ends up making a case for the defence then it's pretty much case closed."  
"Don't worry," I said, worrying, "I'll talk to him."

He was asleep when I checked on him. I closed the door softly and walked through to the living room to find Hakkai sitting at the dining room table nursing a cup of tea. I looked at him and he looked at me, but we said nothing. I shuffled over to the opposite side of the table and sat down. He poured me a cup and pushed it across the table. We sipped in silence.

"You could have told me," he said eventually.  
"It wasn't exactly a plan," I said, "I was kind of adlibbing. If I'd planned it out, I probably would have run it by you."  
"Bullshit," he said, shaking his head, "you've never run anything by anyone, you've always done your own thing and screw anyone else."  
"Hey, I didn't mean..." I started.  
"Yes, you do," he said with a dangerous smile, "I just think that it's become such a deeply ingrained part of your nature that you don't even realise you're doing it anymore. You don't tell anyone anything. But I don't entirely blame you, which is why I didn't poison your tea."

I spat the mouthful I'd just taken back into my cup on reflex. Which made Hakkai laugh rather darkly. Which made me a little twitchy. It always made me a little wary when I saw a rare glimpse of Hakkai's rather disturbing dark side, which I'd always known he had, but rarely met. It cleared up quickly back into his normal mask of cheer however.

"How's the kid?" I asked, just to change subject.  
"Asleep, as you know," he said, "his temperature's down. I'm not sure how he caught it, other than coming into contact with you when you were ill."  
"Great," I said dismally.  
"So you were thinking of selling the temple to Gyumaoh so that you could trade it for a favour of a top notch lawyer who could put Goku's uncle in jail and give you guardianship over him?" Hakkai asked civilly, turning the conversation right back to where I'd tried to divert it from.  
"...Why ask me when you already know the answer?" I said.  
"Because I like to see you squirm," he said with a closed eye smile, before turning serious, "he's that important to you?"

It was like a punch to the stomach. I'd been so focused on calling Kougaiji and getting that favour and then the police and the charges and the victory...it had all served as a very adequate distraction from having to deal with my own feelings. Is he important? Yes, yes he is. Why? Do I have to think about that right now? Can't I leave it a little while, or how about forever? How about I never think about or discuss it with anyone ever again? That sounded doable.

"Yes," I finally managed to grind out, trying to make my voice as unemotional as possible.  
"You know," Hakka smirked, "the more you try to hide the emotion in your voice, the more obvious it is."

I scowled at him.

"Well I have bigger things to worry about," I said moodily, "like convincing Goku to testify against his uncle."  
"You think he will?" Hakkai asked seriously, taking another sip of his tea.  
"I hope so," I said, meaning it, "I really hope so."  
"He'll be eighteen soon though, right?" Hakkai asked, "Then he'll be free of him anyway won't he?"  
"He'll never be free of it unless he can face it," I said, staring at the ornate tea pot in the centre of the table, "he shouldn't have to live with this for the rest of his life. He shouldn't have to blame himself for things that aren't his fault."

Hakkai nodded, finishing his cup and taking my own from me to wash them and the teapot in silence. He left quietly, leaving me sitting at the table, stopping just inside the door to look back.

"Are you talking about Goku?" he asked, "Or yourself?"

I chewed the inside of my lip and kept my mouth shut. Hakkai left without another word.

**AN:** oh, this story is addictive to write once I get started! Sorry I've not updated in a long time and thanks for all the reviews, favourites and story alerts! You guys are awesome! Hope you like the chapter and please review if you have time.

Maiko


	9. Justification

**Chapter 9**

**Justification**

The garden was still and dark, the air slightly chilled with moisture. I'd tried to sleep, but the couch wasn't exactly the most comfortable piece of furniture to lie on. Also Hakkai's parting nugget of truth hadn't helped at all. It had been hard to ignore the niggling sense of self loathing that it had brought, the memories that preceded it and everything else that tagged along.

"_He'd want you to sell it," Shuuei said, his usually reasonable tone tainted with anger.  
"And how the hell would you know what he'd want?" I'd spat back, "He's dead and we're not. Don't look to the dead for assurance because you won't get any answers."_

_He stared at me from across the dimly lit room. I couldn't tell if it was anger or pity in his eyes, or maybe it was a mixture of the two. I looked away, he shook his head._

"_Master didn't care about the building Sanzo," he said, his tone level, "he cared about the people inside it, about the life it represented, the connection with something worth caring about. He wouldn't want you to get yourself killed over a pile of stone and wood."  
"Funny," I'd said back, "seems like he didn't mind sacrificing himself to save my life right after telling me that I was going to be the one he would leave this pile of wood and stone to."  
"It was hardly what he'd planned!" Shuuei took three steps into the room, his anger evident now.  
"Doesn't matter what he planned," I said, staring at the candle in the middle of the room, "that's what happened. I'm not selling. They can kill me if they want, it won't do them any good anyway."  
"Oh yeah?" he'd growled out, "And why is that?"  
"Because I changed my will this morning, and I've left you the temple."_

I hadn't meant it as a compliment, I'd only put it in my will because I was genuinely concerned that at some point the goons might get lucky and take me out. Still, I hadn't expected Shuuei to take it as some sort of insult. I think maybe he thought that all I cared about was making sure the temple was always in someone's hands, no matter what happened to the person holding it. Maybe he was right, which was why he said I had no heart. Which was why I followed him out into the courtyard where we exchanged some very harsh words. Which was why he was there when the men who had snuck into the temple to try and kill me finally struck. Which was why he got shot, pushing me out of the way. Inconsiderate bastard had saved my life and left me with the guilt. He should have just let them shoot me.

I didn't want to be thinking about this, about Shuuei, about Master. Some things are better left alone, and some things are better buried away where they can never be found. Hakkai disagreed, but Hakkai wasn't the one with the severe guilt complex. I was sick fed up of people sacrificing themselves to save me when I wasn't even worth it. They had lives, they had people that cared about them. Who am I? I've always felt on some level that I should be living a different sort of life so that I can honour their sacrifices, but I would never be able to change that much and, in a way, I don't think that changing myself would honour them at all. Didn't make me feel any better though.

Yet, in a way, I could almost understand their motives. I didn't like to think about it like this, but I really had almost sacrificed my home, my way of life, just for a chance to save this boy. It felt...I'm not sure. Rewarding wasn't the right word because I didn't see him as a damn charity case. It was different somehow, it felt more personal than that. Maybe that's why I didn't want to think about it.

I heard him sneak into the garden before I saw him. My fingers had been itching for a smoke, but I hadn't wanted to go back into the house just yet. The door made a soft rushing sound as it opened, like wind through leaves. His feet were nothing but soft falls on the grass, disturbing the dew. I didn't look around, didn't say anything, as he walked up to stand beside me. The world was quiet all around us.

"You shouldn't be up," I said, wishing I had a cigarette even if it just gave my hands something to do.  
"Needed air," he said, shrugging, "it was getting kind of stuffy in there."

I could attest to that. Something about the spare bedroom, it always got stuffy if you didn't keep the windows open and it was a little on the cold side for that. Still, better that than walking out into the cold, wet night to stand there in your bare feet.

"Go put some shoes on then," I said gruffly.  
"I'm fine," he said back quietly, contemplatively.

God this was awkward. Should I ask him now? Or should I wait until he's feeling better and ask then? I wish I didn't have to ask at all, if I was honest. I wish that he'd just do it without having to be forced, that he'd have the willpower to put that bastard in jail and take control of his life.

"Saw your uncle today," I said casually; damn, why did I always have to be so roundabout in my conversations with him?  
"...Yeah?" I could hear the nervousness in his voice, under the mask of nonchalance.  
"Didn't seem too happy about the whole thing," I said, crossing my arms for warmth.  
"Well," Goku shrugged, looking down towards the swiftly running stream, "he's never very happy when people fight back."

Damn. I felt that one, right in the cynical, shrivelled up piece of meat I call a heart. Better keep going before I lose my nerve and run, I thought.

"I wasn't talking about that," I said calmly, "I was talking about when we charged him with child abuse at the police station earlier."

No response, although I could feel the sudden tension radiating from him. His shoulders had tightened and his breathing had hitched. I carried on regardless.

"I mean he tried to get me on assault, but he didn't get very far," I felt the wind picking up a little but ignored it, "my friend got us some very good lawyers, so he dropped the charges. He wanted you back, but that's not going to happen. The police are already investigating and we're sure that a judge won't be able to refute the evidence and that a trial date will be announced soon. Of course you'll have to admit everything, you'll have to testify, but I'm not giving you a say. You'll do it and then you can stay with me until you figure out where you're going from there."

Why did I always have to be such an asshole? Did I think I could get round asking him to do it if I just ordered him to do it instead? I'd learned to be nice to everyone but the kid beside me. Why? What was I so...afraid of that I had to build this defensive layer between us? What was my fucking problem? He was so quiet that I felt, for a whole minute, that he was actually going to either start crying or run back into the house as fast as he could. I didn't think I could handle another apology today. Which was why I was beyond surprised when I felt his hand close around my arm, turning me forcefully towards him, forcing me to look at him. It was hard to tell in the dark, but I was sure that his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. His expression was closed as he held back whatever emotion was trying desperately to escape. For a moment I thought he was going to hit me, which wouldn't have been unreasonable considering my behaviour. Instead he spoke.

"I can..." he hesitated, "stay with you?"  
"That was the plan, brat," I said, no force behind it.  
"But I lied to you," he said, confused, conflicted and worried...  
"You think I was going to just throw you out on the street because of that?" I said in frustration, "Is that the kind of person you think I am?"

He stared at me for a long moment in silence and I looked back, trying for an annoyed stare. Then I was pulled roughly towards him. I instinctually thought he was going to throw me over his damn shoulder again, so you can realise my surprise when, instead, his arms closed around me. I was shocked into stillness. It wasn't quite any one of the reactions I had been expecting from him and, now that it had turned up unexpectedly, I wasn't sure what to do with it. Eventually I managed to pick up my useless arms and sort of hug him back. Sort of.

"You didn't need to ask me to do it," his voice was strained as he buried his head against my shoulder, "I don't care what happens to him, I don't care!"  
"Alright," I said uncomfortably, patting him awkwardly on the back, "alright."  
"He deserves it, whatever he gets," now I could hear the anger but it swiftly turned to weariness, "I just wanted to get away, that's all I wanted, it's all I want..."  
"Don't worry about that," I said, trying to sound reassuring, "you don't need to worry about that anymore."

I meant it, I really meant it. We stood there for I don't know how long. He didn't seem to want to let go and I wasn't sure what to do about that. I'd been horrible enough to him already, hadn't given him much comfort at all considering the situation, so I didn't want to be the one pushing him away. It felt more prudent to let him back away first. I looked up to the sky and watched as the clouds began to thicken and cover the crescent moon in wispy black smoke. I smiled at it, wishing for a moment that I really believed _he_ could see me, see that I was alright, that I was doing okay for myself, I was surviving, I was...

Then the first drop of rain fell from the sky, splashing against my cheek. I blinked and shook my head. I smirked at the darkness. If I believed in signs at all, I would have taken it as one, but considering I'm the world's biggest cynic I chalked it up to coincidence. I also thought it was a reasonable excuse to get the kid off me and back into bed. Pity I wouldn't get that cigarette now...

"It's starting to rain," I said softly, "we'd better get back inside."  
"Yeah," I could hear the tears in his voice as he cleared his throat.

He slowly let go and backed away a few steps, trying as subtly as he could to wipe his face. The rain was coming on slowly, gaining momentum with the wind. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, as if there was something else he wanted to say but had no idea how to say it. It was ominous and I didn't think I could handle any more surprises right then or anymore displays of affection. I wasn't used to it, or good at it, so I put my hand on his arm and led him inside in silence. The door closed softly behind him and I could hear the rain beginning to beat against the windows in rhythmic waves as the wind manipulated it. I looked at the couch in resentment and waited for him to leave so I could get ready for another restless night's sleep. Instead he hovered hesitantly beside the armchair. Damn it.

"If you've got something to say kid," I said gruffly, "then say it. If not just beat it, I'm tired."

He looked at me sharply, whether with anger at my tone or surprise at my candidness I'm not sure. He seemed to be having an internal debate which, for a moment, I wished I could hear. Maybe I would have been able to advise him against what he did next if I had been privy to the inner workings of his mind. Instead I only frowned as he walked towards me, one hand clutching his elbow, his eyes uncertain while his face was set in determination. The beat of the rain was distracting me, casting dancing moon shadows as the clouds intermittently allowed the light through, moving over his face as he stopped before me. I could hear my heart beating in the silence and, for a moment, I thought I could hear his too. Then he reached up with his hand and looped it around my neck, pulling me in for a soft, chaste kiss. I didn't move, I didn't breathe, I thought I felt my blood stopping in my veins, mainly because I had no idea what to do. His breath was soft and warm against my cheek. He pulled away quickly and I said nothing. He looked at me for a moment, as if assessing me, then he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. I heard him entering his room further down the hall, the door closing with a soft snap, and then there was silence.

I closed my eyes and then opened them. Everything was still the same. I pinched my arm and hissed at the pain; alright, not a dream then. It was as if time had slowed down as our lips touched and now everything was speeding back up. My heart started racing and I had to sit down.

Fuck.  
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This was not part of the plan, not at all. God damn it, this was _not_ part of the plan! Suffice to say that I did not sleep that night either, although for very different reasons than the night before.

* * *

What was I thinking? No, really, _what was I thinking!?_

"No, no, no," I groaned quietly as I sank down onto the bed, curling up and stuffing my head against the pillow, "why am I such a complete and utter idiot?"

I never do the right thing. Since I was small I'd always chosen the wrong path in any decision. I tried to be good, I was punished for it. I tried to be bad and I was punished harder. Uncle was never a fair person, that was easy to admit, but then most people in life weren't fair. Hakkai-san was one of the few teachers I'd met who liked me enough to help me with my studies. No one else had ever really wanted to know. I was a layabout, I was too stupid to teach, I was a trouble maker, I was a disruption, an imbecile, a fool. The friends I did have were usually trouble makers too, no one I would ever consider a real friend, someone I could really trust. The few girlfriends I'd had never really attracted me as such, I just felt that I should have them to be normal. All the other boys had them...not that it was really even that, the fact that I'd kissed a man, I wasn't really gay, at least I didn't think I was. Sanzo was different; he was different from anyone I'd ever met before. He talked to me like an equal, if you ignored the fact that he called me 'kid' all the time and was horribly sarcastic, but then he was like that with most people so I didn't take it personally. He was a genuine person, deep down, and he cared. It wasn't that he was a guy, it was...his reaction, or lack thereof. It hurt. I'd never really been hurt like this before, a hurt that started inside instead of out, in the heart instead of on the skin. I'd become hardened against Uncle's anger and his beatings, other peoples taunts and disappointment and harassment...but nothing had prepared me for this.

Damn it, why do I always screw everything up? I just, I liked him and...and he, fuck I don't even _know_, he just cares so much, even though he tries to hide it. I can see that he cares about me and no-one has ever really cared about me enough to do what he's already done for me. He saved me, twice. He talks to me and he teaches me and smirks at my lame jokes. He found lawyers and friends in high places to pull strings and he's offering me a place to stay. Is it completely irrational to feel attracted to him after just that? I hoped not, or I was being very, very irrational.

I could tell what he was thinking too. Just a kid, that's what he was thinking. I'm just a kid, what do I know? He probably thinks I'm just a foolish child with a crush. Maybe I am...no, no, it's more than that. I don't know how I know, I just do. It's different somehow; it feels more real to me than anything I've felt for anyone. At first I'd been embarrassed, when I saw him here at Hakkai-san's house, embarrassed because I was attracted to him and I wasn't sure why. I'd never thought about guys like that before but, well, there was no denying he was good looking. I put it down to curiosity. Yet when I saw him walk through the door after he beat it in and reach down for me I felt like, I don't know, he was taking me away with him to that place I'd always dreamt of, where I could be away from everything with someone who loved me, cared for me. Okay so I had a fever and was a little delirious at the time, but still.

"He must hate me now," I whispered against the cotton pillow cover, my voice cracking, "I'm such a fool! Why do I always screw things up?"

* * *

**AN:** Poor Goku, why did he have to fall for the emotionally challenged man? I'm sure it will all work itself out in the end though :P. Thanks so much to everyone for the reviews, the fav's and the alerts!

To Adena Kaiba – Thanks for the encouragement, it's always nice to know that someone it waiting for an update *hugs*!

To Namikaze Naruko 14 – I'm glad you like it, hope the update was quick enough for you ; )

Okay, off to finish my essay work now (damn uni).

Maiko


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